


Tales of The Brotherhood

by FrostAcademic



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Feels, Battle, Bickering, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Character Death In Dream, Chocobros - Freeform, Exploring, F/M, Gladio is studying, Heat Stroke, Implied Bi-sexual Noctis, Implied Prompto/Cindy, Injury Recovery, Innuendo, Kyoto, Mentions of Cancer, Monsters, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Noct's mother, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Random & Short, Samurai, Steampunk, Tags to be added/removed as needed, Victorian, Virgin Shaming, rewritten ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-21 05:45:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13734399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostAcademic/pseuds/FrostAcademic
Summary: Final Fantasy XV is a broad, involving tale of sacrifice, bravery, and love. In between battles to the death and heated chases, there were smaller, intimate moments between the four men destined to save a kingdom.Short stories telling of moments between battles, bickering over meals, and the close bond between the Brotherhood, as well as alternate universe tales of new realities





	1. Ghost Stories

The afternoon light was fading as they ran through the underbrush, golden rays shooting through the thick branches to light up the path, the fog already rolling across the distant mountains. His legs ached, unused to the long hours of running they'd been doing lately, and his breath came in hitches. Finally, he spoke up, despite the fact it was obvious the others felt the same, but wouldn't speak up out of pride, and a masculine air they always kept up, even when no one was around to see it. "Maybe we should call it."

He slowed to a trot, hands on his hips; night was coming, and it wasn't safe to be out, a chilly breeze already blowing, the howls of creatures they would rather not meet echoing from the heart of the forest. Ahead, the air shimmered like heat waves from a fire, the tell tale signs of a camping area. There was a hum in the air, like a distant song you have remembered from the past.

"I'm all for it...the heat is making me all icky," Prompto said, fanning himself. His tank clung to his body, sweat beaded on his forehead. Noct nodded, a bit annoyed Prompto had made this all about him, but it was too hot to argue, and night was coming fast, the light fading from gold to amber in the sky.

"There's a campground ahead," Gladio grunted, rubbing his shoulder: he'd gotten hit during a minor skirmish with some wolves, nursing a shoulder only just recently popped back into the joint by Noct, angering easily with nerves dangling on the edge. "We can make camp for the night, get some grub."

"I guess it'll have to do," Prompto said, dejected. He'd been looking forward to a hotel room, a hot shower, and a Chocobo feather bed, and hadn't been shy about dropping hints about it all day, mentioning how wonderful the beds at hotels were at every opportunity, and pretending to be waving away stench from the other four's sweat.

But it was all for nothing; the day had lagged on as they ran along the cliffs trying to find some crystals a patron of the last diner had requested, not finding them, getting into twenty minor skirmishes, and Prompto promptly running out of bullets right as a hoard of imps had ambushed them. It hadn't been the best day, and everyone just wanted to go to bed.

"Complaining isn't helping right now, Prompto," Ignis said tiredly, shoving his glasses up his sweaty nose with a wearied hand, fingers shaking slightly. He hadn't been battered about as badly as the others, but he was just as tired, wrists aching from swinging the lance strapped to his back so many times, hard blows working his muscles to the max. He still had to make the evening meal, while they all relaxed and chatted. If anyone had a right to complain, it was him.

Gladio didn't say anything, working his arm in short circles, his normally placid expression unable to mask the small winces creeping across his face as the bones rubbed together. Out of all of them, Gladio was the toughest, and would've denied pain with a cut jugular. He took his job as the King's Guard seriously, nothing stopping his vows, not even dislocated joints.

It took a few minutes for them to reach the plateau, blue runes traced across the rock face glowing faintly. Rumors had long flown about the true nature of the camping spaces scattered across the world, everything from aliens to scientific meddling to aid imperial troops, but no one really knew the truth. The only thing that mattered about them was how much they aided hikers and explorers. Creatures didn't bother you on them, and everyone confessed to sleeping more peacefully than they had in years.

That was all they needed to hear.

Prompto suddenly found the strength to run ahead, racing up the slopped rock at a long legged gait, leaving the others far behind. He didn't bother to bring the tent with him, however, Gladio shouldering the bulky bundle on his good shoulder, Noct bearing the weight of the food bags. Not even Ignis was completely empty handed, as he lugged the fire starter kits in a cloth sack. Everything was packed securely, in containers that were easy to toss aside during a sudden skirmish without damaging the tents inside.

Out in the wild, a sturdy tent was life or death, when it came down to cold and rain.

"Come on you guys, it's getting dark," Prompto called, sitting crossed legged in the center of the rock, looking annoyed at them for being slower than him. Gladio's reply was to toss the tent at him as he struggled up the rock, his knees beginning to lock up. The bundle knocked Prompto onto his back, his cry an overreaction that made Noct chuckle.

"Try to help, huh? Everyone else pulls their weight," he said, Prompto shooting him a look as he struggled out from under the tent's bulk. Noct didn't even try to help, setting up the portable grill and tables, prepping for whatever new meal Ignis had concocted during their travels. Gladio had picked up a new type of mushroom on the mountainside, Ignis declaring it was perfect for a fish recipe he'd wanted to try.

Although they were often teased for how Ignis did all the cooking for the group, becoming their literal den mother, he knew his way around a sauce pan.  
  
*****

The sun lowered into the sky, shadows running across the forest floor as they finally finished setting up the tents and chairs around the fire pit, striking wood from the stones edges to make a roaring fire. Another thing highly gossiped about was the firewood, as every stone seemed mysteriously stocked with enough random logs to make a single fire, good for the single night most people stayed. Ignis had been cooking for awhile, the sweet scents of broiling fish and oiled mushrooms filling the air, his skilled hands quickly tossing in spices and chopped vegetables from the food bag.

"It's getting dark!" Prompto declared, tipping his chair back on two legs, hanging in the air for a moment,arms in the air, before all four legs slammed into the ground, pitching him forwards, a grin on his face.

"....and?" Gladio asked, still not looking up from his book. He'd been delving into Japanese fight techniques lately, devouring books on Bushido and samurai defenses. He was currently reading The Art of War, and barely looked up from it unless a sudden fight or hot meal forced him to. The book wasn't even in English, so Noct often wondered when Gladio had taken Japanese courses, or whether it was a required thing for the King's guard.

"Ghost stories, bruh!" Prompto declared, rubbing his hands together giddily. Behind him, Ignis blinked from his place behind the grill, but said nothing.  
Gladio rolled his eyes; Noct didn't know what exactly to do, voice questioning. "Uh... ghost stories?"

"Uh, yeah!" Prompto said, in a tone that was far to excited for that late at night, after the hard day they'd had.  
The twelve potions he'd had for battle wounds probably hadn't helped... everyone knew the healing elixirs were chock full of sugar and caffeine.

"Ghosts don't exist," Ignis said, but slightly under his breath to not offend Prompto too badly.

Noct heard, and stifled a grin in a fake cough: Prompto got over zelous about the smallest things sometimes, like the afternoon he spent three hours singing the Chocobo jingle from the radio commercials. The whole group kept "accidentally" tripping him that day, saying nothing about it when he fell over yet another out stretched foot while racing along the forest paths.

"I heard a good one on the road," Prompto was saying, as Ignis fried up the now oiled fish, adding mushroom slices and pepper. The scent was mouth watering, but Prompto ignored it, off to the races with his new tale. "Cindy said it was totally legit, she heard it from a hunter."

Because everything Cindy says is obviously true, no doubt about it, Noct thought, sipping his water. Promtpo's not exactly subtle crush on Cindy was showing flamboyantly...

"Ah, a Hammerhead yarn?" Ignis cut in, serving the fish on camp plates with a side of sauce made from mushroom and wild herbs, the smell heavenly. Noct waited a grand total of four second before digging in. "They do seem to have a rich folk tale society going on there." His tone was lingering on sarcasm, but only just avoiding it.

As Promtpo began his story ("So, this hunter went into the tunnels one night, trying to find this cool ore thing..."), Gladio kept reading, Noct feigned interest, Ignis set up the sleeping rolls, and the night lowered onto the world around them.

In the distance, an owl hooted loudly, making Prompto jump slightly in his seat, eyes alight as his low grade horror tale ("...and the imps had torn a ton of people apart before him! He could barely escape!") blundered along.

It was a nice night, despite everything. A welcome reprieve from the hard battles of the day, and a reprieve from thoughts of the struggles in the coming days.


	2. A Real Scorcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blazing hot hike, made worse by an argument over batteries, soon cools off

It had been a blistering day, the dust floating in the air like ghosts, the sun beating down from the sky with no pity, the only cloud coverings mild puffs that fizzed away all too soon, golden rays baking the earth, filtering through the trees in arrows of light that burned fair skin lobster red in minutes. 

The mp3 player had run out of battery hours ago, dying mid song, the nearest station ten miles back, or six ahead. Either or, it was out of the question for the time being, and Prompto didn't let them forget it. 

"If we hadn't used the batteries for Noct's sword back in Lestalm," he began, yet again, wiping the sweat from his brow with a rag, face red from the heat, "we could at least have some tunes..."

"Hey, don't give me that," Noct snapped, brushing hair out his eyes. "That upgrade wiped out two Bandersnatch. Didn't see you doing any good back there." 

He didn't mean to be cruel: he didn't really have anything against Prompto, but the heat was making them all cranky, sounding like children who needed a nap. 

Prompto pouted, but said nothing, crossing his arms. Everyone walked on in silence, a cloud rolling across the sun for a cool minute, before the heat returned. The area they were walking through was scrub brush and sand, a few scraggly trees casting the odd shadow now and then. They'd gotten turned around chasing down a wolf pack that had been picking off farmer's chickens and small pets, the post offering 3,000 gil. It had been too good to pass up, but now Noct was regretting it. The scrub blurred together after awhile, plains broken by mountain passes and hills of scraggly weeds with prickers. It was a nightmare.  
Granted, they'd been through worse so far, but it was pretty damn uncomfortable.

"... anyone got water, at least?" Prompto asked, about twenty minutes later. He'd pulled off his jacket, his tank glued to his skin with sweat. Gladio had tied his jacket around his waist, his bare chest and belly shining in the light. Only Ignis stayed fully clothed, regal to the end, even forgoing his own comfort to keep the royal uniform.

Noct sighed, digging into his pack for one of the luke warm bottles of water he'd jammed into it when they'd left the last store, wincing as he pricked his fingers on something. He licked the drop of blood away, fishing into the bag with his other hand.  
"I think I lost 'em all..." he said, hearing glass clink in his satchel. 

He'd dropped it during a skirmish, and the monster had trampled it once or twice.

"Awwwwwwwwwww....." Prompto whined, making Noct roll his eyes. 

Gladio thumped him on the shoulder. "Here, take mine, and stop acting like a child."

Prompto gulped down the water with a half-choked thanks.  
Gladio sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah...just..whatever, Prompto..."

Noct was just starting to say something vaguely encouraging about the next town being a mile away, more likely than not, when the bushes ahead began rustling, leaves raining down. Something was coming, something big. 

Ignis groaned, unsheathing his dual knives, Gladio getting a grip on his sword hilt. Prompto scurried off a few feet away, gun barrels reeling as he loaded. Noct pulled out his newly repaired sword, glaring down whatever was coming. He was too hot and too pissed to take crap off anything right now.

The bushes ahead suddenly blazed away, a blast of fire making them step back: a burning heat filled the air, as a creature of rock and magma lumbered into the clearing. How they hadn't see it from far away, with what little brush there was, could be chalked up to how tired they all were.

Noct grinned, flicking the shiny nozzle on the sword hilt, the hum of batteries filling the air. He stepped forward, braced his legs, and fired a stream of ice at the creature. The air sizzled, as the black, dead rock fell to the ground. Noct blew on the sword, icicles freezing his bangs. "So...you were saying about wasted batteries?"

"Uhm, you know what?" Prompto said, frowning. "Just never mind..."

Noct hadn't laughed so hard in weeks, as, indeed, another mile's much cooler hike showed the next town. Prompto's cheeks didn't stop blazing the whole day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this one is much shorter. It's more of a spare moment than full story, so I didn't force it to be longer than I felt it needed to be.  
> Takes place during literally any hike in the game, at any time.


	3. Bad Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto stops to clean up after a hard mission, and has some painful memories.

Prompto wasn't fat, thank you very much: he hadn't been a pound over 100 since he was small, and he was proud of it. Keeping lean and fit kept him fast, and fast often meant the difference between living and dying when you were faced with creatures in the field. 

They were stopped at a dusty station in the desert somewhere, off roading it for awhile to track down a Bandersnatch nest for a few extra gil. They had found the nasty buggers holed up in a mountain side, and wiped them out in no time. Gladio has used some sort of Bushido move he'd been studying in those books of his to wipe the things out, heads rolling like tomatoes across the grass. It had been an amazing sight, but Prompt had felt a pang of jealously: he'd only gotten in a few good swipes, severing a leg or two, but his aim had been off, and bullets hit the Bandersnatch's sides to bounce off harmlessly.   
He'd played it off in the car on the ride home, but now, it hurt. It hurt badly. 

He stood in the men's room, light filtering through holes in the wooden boards of the wall, standing in front of the dusty mirror. It had once been a mirror from a house, meant to hang in a hall to reflect portraits or other art, so it really didn't fit the wall, taking up the wall from sink to behind the toilet. There was no escaping your reflection, even as you took a piss or dressed or what all, and Prompto's weary face looked back at him blankly from the smudged glass, dark circles marring his skin under his eyes. 

He pulled a face, sticking his tongue out childishly. The reflection mimicked him perfectly, but even he thought it looked strained. He was tired, dirty, and in the dumps from Gladio's victory. Nothing was going to look joyful right then.

"Ahhh..." He sighed. "To slow on the uptake, Prompt. You missed the opening. Blew the shot."

His reflection didn't seem to mind the personal berating, and blinked calmly, tiredly, back at him.

He glared at himself, ruffling his already dirty hair, making sand trickle into his eyes. He needed a quick wash off, honestly. The sink would do... tear a rag from his spare jacket, wash up good before they took off again. 

He pulled his shirt off, groaning as the material slid over a cut along his side, a souviner from the Bandersnatch knocking him into a rock during the fight. It had stopped bleeding, but would leave a nasty scar, tracing along his body from under his right nipple to his waistline. 

"Hey, chicks did scars," He said, chuckling.   
Suddenly, he imagined fingers tracing the scar, running along his skin. He blushed, thinking of Cindy...

He shook his head. "Take a cold shower, Prompt... not the time." 

He refused to meet his own reflection's eyes, as he rummaged in his pack for the spare jacket. It was a light one, a dark brown colour, saved for when his normal one was dirty. He didn't feel bad about tearing a good strip off of it, wetting it in the cloudy water from the sink. 

Wringing it out, he looked in the mirror, really looked at himself, closely examining his body.   
He was slender, but his abs were light, there but not firm or chiseled like Gladio was, and a line of blonde hair led down his navel. He was normally a stickler for shaving up, but on the road he didn't have much time for it. He was just glad he didn't grow much beyond light fuzz on his face. 

With a sigh, Prompto scrubbed under his arms with the rag, the water making his skin goose pimple from the chill. He'd have preferred a normal shower, but what can you do? It was nice to scrape the road dirt off his chest, and not stink like a pig for awhile.

He glanced in the mirror at his waist, making sure it was still slender, even though he knew that was ridiculous; he hadn't eaten too much crap on the road, and they all got more than enough exercise during random battles, and all the running and hiding from Imperials. 

Years ago... he wasn't like this.

.....

Walking home from school was hard; it was a half mile, but every day he came home out of breath from the walk. Luckily, Big Girl was on the walk home, with their student's special. 

Big Girl was a greasy fast food place that did well with the teens, and Prompto ate there every day after classes, a fact his every growing gut attested to. He wore baggier and baggier shirts, but it was still hard to hide how much weight he'd put on over the years, as middle school wrapped up. 

The attendant smiled as she handed Prompto his usual order, but her eyes skated over him briefly: something like pity was in her eyes. 

He nodded a thanks, and left, digging into the fries on his way into the alley, his neighborhood sprawled at the mouth of it, kids flooding the small play park at the end of the block. 

The fries were gone by the time he made it to his house, the late afternoon sun filtering through the trees, the pavement damp from a rainstorm earlier in the morning. Grease slicked his fingers, making it hard to get a grip on the key, but he made it.   
"I'm home!" He called, hearing nothing. He didn't expect to: Mom was out at work all day, and there was no one else. He didn't want to think about that, though, so he shoved it aside, the smell of cooked meat from the bag turning his brain onto one thought only.   
Time to eat.

He avoided the full mirror on the wall: it was there when they moved in, afixed to the wall with glue or something, and couldn't be removed without damaging the wall. So his mom had left it, putting their dining room set to the left of it, making him have to pass it when ever he went to sit down. He couldn't look at it. He didn't want to see his reflection. 

The burger was good, though, meat and cheese with Big Girl's secret sauce, all the veggies pulled out, like always. He hated lettuce.

Outside, the sun was fading, the house growing dark. The kitchen was a pool of shadows, and he shuddered, flicking on the overhead. The bulbs were harsh, and he did his math and history by them, leaving off the literature for tomorrow. He hated doing the work anyway, and he could make it before having to leave for class in the morning. He had a couple hours, so he'd be fine.  
Finally done with the problems, he balled up the Big Girl bag, throwing it in the trash with the others, sighing. Every day was like this. It grew on you, after awhile. 

He turned off the light, and went to bed.

...

Prompto sighed, drying off by holding his armpits to the half working dryer: that was a long time ago. He was always worried he'd fatten up again, and be useless to everyone. He had to keep skinny to keep strong, protect Noct. That was all that mattered.

"Hey, Prompto, you alright?" Ignis poked his head in. "You were taking so long."

"Just drying off!" He replied, brightly. "I'm coming."

"Don't take too long."

"Right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The source for this story is the second episode of Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, and several comments about weight in game.


	4. Sleepless in Hammerhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis suffers from night terrors, and can not sleep one night. Ignis helps him as best he can.

The sun was sinking behind the cliffs, loud calls echoing from the distance eerily, creatures rustling through the tall grasses beyond the haven's stone. The fire crackled merrily in the stone pit Ignis had dragged together, a hunk of meat from a beast in the fields roasting in the dutch oven, simmering in some olive oil and wild thyme, a new recipe he'd picked up somewhere in Hammerhead, before they'd left the rest area. 

Prompto was clicking away on his cell by the fire, draped across a camp chair lazily, heatedly firing off duel offers to other players in King's Knight, fingers tapping powerfully on the touch screen, frowning in concentration. Gladio was trying to read, but yawning every other page, clearly about to crash at any moment, despite trying to complete the chapter. He was pursing popular fiction lately, but the book he was currently delving in to had no jacket, the spine unreadable. Ignis wondered why Gladio was so desperate to hide what book he was reading, when all the big guy read was war tactics and Chinese literature. 

Ignis had been braising the meat for the second time when the cry came from across the campsite: the tent was thrashing, soft groans and louder cries coming from it, a bare foot peeking free as the person inside rolled about.

"N...Noct?" Prompto gasped, getting to his feet, cell dropping into the camp chair, forgotten. "Noct, you okay, bud?"

"What's got him riled?" Gladio laid his book in his lap, squinting at the tent. "Making a lot of noise in there. Should we check on him?" He half rose, like he was going to walk over and see what was up.

"No, I shall see to it," Ignis said, quickly, dashing across the plateau, a dropped bottle of oil slapping the dirt hard, gushing its contents messily. Ignis slid aside the tent flaps, and disappeared inside.

"...what was that?" Prompto asked, sinking into the chair with a sigh, leaping up as the protective case on his phone gave a protesting groan of plastic. 

"Dunno...Iggy'll deal with it, yeah?" Gladio shrugged, eyes barely leaving his book. 

"...yeah." Prompto still wasn't convinced. "...you think he's okay? Noct hasn't been sleeping much lately, y'know. He only sleeps during the day." His phone lay in his lap, forgotten, beeping a sad fanfare as his character died in battle, no player tapping to protect him from the monsters in-field.

"Lazy bum just sleeps in the car, so what? Everyone's sleep schedule is trashed by this." He turned a page. "I wouldn't worry about it. We can get him some sleeping pills next stop, if you're so concerned."

Prompto sighed, glancing at his phone. "Ahhh, I died! I lost all my armor!" He frantically tapped away, trying to fix the damage. 

"Those mobile games'll kill ya," Gladio remarked.

 

* * *

 

Ignis held the dampened cloth to Noct's forehead, wiping away the sweat beading there, sighing. "These attacks... every night now." 

He sat back, as Noct's lip curled, whimpers leaving him, barely formed words. Ignis bent to re dampen the cloth, when a single word stood out to him, Noct's eyes flicking rapidly in dreams: "...mother..."

Ignis stifled a chuckle at that: even though it seemed like Noct was calling him mother in sleep, that wasn't really the truth at all. Despite the fact he was caring for him, Noct wasn't on the same plain of reality right now. He was lost in the dreams that took him every night, back in the past. He'd never forgiven himself for the death of his mother, even though it wasn't his fault; No one asked for a monster attack during what was intended to be a simple walk, killing the guards in one fell swoop, and killing the queen before his eyes. 

Ignis shook his head, sighing: the past was better forgotten, sometimes. During the day, Noct was as cheerful as one could be on a quest like this, easy going, ready to fight, and taking control when it was needed. 

But, at night, Noct was taken by these terrible dreams, nightmares of that night, fleeting visions of the past he couldn't change, no matter how much he wanted to. It was a painful thing to witness, night after night, but there was little to be done about it now, out in the wild like this. All he could do was keep a lid on it. The others couldn't know.

He gently held Noct down, as he tried to sit up: unfortunately, on top of the nightmares, Noct would try to sleep walk, determined to protect his mother in the dream. Let to his own devices, he'd even attempt to find a weapon, staggering into the halls.  
Ignis suddenly remembered there wasn't a hall for Noct to tread down anymore, awake or asleep. His brow furrowed, as he wiped Noct's face gently, the boy giving a sigh in sleep. 

The boy... The Prince. Despite his real age, despite the fact there was little difference between them, Ignis would always consider Noctis a boy, a child who needed help.

That probably wasn't a good way to look at it, come to think of it. He sighed again, dipping the cloth in water, wringing it out.  
Noct suddenly twisted, a foot kicking the water outside, the cloth flying. Ignis tried to hold him down, but a fist slammed into his stomach, his breath leaving him in a gasp. 

Noct, eyes flicking rapidly behind his eyelids, flung a hand out, summoning his sword, going into a battle stance. He swung rapidly at nothing, hitting the air. The blade flashed as it swung, the firelight glinting on the steel.

"Noct, what the hell?" Gladio yelled, dodging a pass of the blade, Prompto dropping to his knees, hands over his head. "Whoa, buddy, not a good time for blade practice!"

Noct didn't reply, swinging the blade hard, slicing a camp chair down the middle, the pieces falling as Noct slammed through the campsite like a hurricane, breaking their camp table and grill. Sparks flew, catching the grass alight to either side of the tents, the flames burning merrily. 

"Whoa, whoa, not good, not gooood!" Prompto yelled, running for the water bottles, dousing the flames as best he could, and stamping on the rest that wouldn't go out so easily. 

"Noct, goddamn it!" Gladio stepped in front of Noctis, a hand gripping his wrist in an iron grip, twisted down. The bones protested, Noct's hand opening. The blade fell to the dirt, and vanished in a flash. 

"No, stop it!" Ignis staggered to his feet, seeing this chaos. "He's not himself right now."

"Huh?" Prompto looked up, the flames out, most of the water dampening him rather than the grass. "He's what? He sick?!"

"...asleep," Gladio said, staring into Noct's face. "Idiot's asleep." He snapped his fingers in front of Noct's eyes, making him tilt his head like a dog, searching for the noise. 

"Sleep walking..." Ignis said, softly, rubbing his nose. "...he does this after the nightmares."

Prompto gaped, still not getting it. "Uhm...can someone explain this to me?"

Ignis sighed again, taking Noct's arm. Noct flinched, and made a soft noise like a startled child. "Noctis... has dreams. Terrible ones. If not controlled, he sleepwalks, and can even sleep...er...fight." He didn't know how else to explain it. 

"...that's all?" Gladio asked, sitting back down. 

That...wasn't what Ignis had been expecting. He'd been thinking more along the lines of a freak out, yelling, and god knew what else. Gladio simply taking it like a normal, everyday fact, wasn't expected. 

"Nightmares? You mean..uh..uh...what's the worrrrd...." Prompto dropped into his chair, sprawling across the arms.  
"Night...uhh..."

"Night terrors," Ignis supplied. "Uncontrolled ones. From when..." He paused. "...from when the Queen...passed."

Gladio and Ignis both went pale at this, looking at anything but Noct; they never spoke about what had happened to the Queen, and Noct wasn't keen on supplying details after they'd taken the creature down. 

"...just help me get him to bed... if he's held down, he'll be alright. The dreams only last a few hours." Ignis began leading Noct back to the tent, feeling exhaustion wash over him. This could take until morning, unless-

"A...anything we can do? Like...doesn't milk help?" Prompto offered.

"...warmed milk, yes. It would ease him into deeper sleep, and break the night terror for tonig...for this morning."

"On it," Gladio said, nodding to Prompto. "Get the grill going, Prompt. We've got some milk in the cooler."

* * *

 

Noctis took a few sips of the milk, swallowing slowly, lazily, his eyes slowing. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his limbs relaxing. His breathing became slower, calmer, and he was finally asleep proper. 

"...at last," Ignis sighed, sitting back on his heels. He stifled yet another yawn, seeing the sun poke over the distant hills. Gladio and Prompto sat by the entrance, crossed legged in the dirt like children. Ignis had tried to get them to sleep, but they refused.

"Not leaving Noct," Gladio grunted. "This is something that can't be ignored."

"Yeah!" Prompto cut in. "If Noct's in trouble, than...than sleep is for the weak!"

With their help, Noct slept a few hours before sunrise. Ignis downed a near whole pot of coffee, and lied repeatedly to Gladio about needing some rest. When Noct woke, he had no clue of what had happened, and gladly helped make bacon and eggs for breakfast. Ignis smiled weakly at his greeting, saying nothing. 

Gladio and Prompto kept silent about it, as well; the last thing they wanted was to embarrass him. 

They had this, as long as they worked together.


	5. I Want to Be Your Canary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Gladio wants to do is read a popular romance novel...  
> Life has other plans

Gladio was engrossed in the book, already twenty chapters in to the story, despite some flaws: Currently, the cliched love story I Want To Be Your Canary was the top selling book in the whole tri-state, a cheesy display taking center stage in the Lestalm gas station, a billboard displaying the knight and princess to the highway from twenty feet up, in all their lurid glory, Gladio sucked along the story beats like thousands of others before him. Everyone had read, or was reading, it.

Despite this, Gladio didn't want to be seen with it; The book might've been popular, but it was still a romance at its core. Classic literature often played off the same ideals and plots, and the novel was a Romeo and Juliet story stripped of its charm, with a coating of cheesy dialog and action scenes, swordplay and ripped bodices. The whole thing was a glorious trash fire, and had millions hooked already, a popular radio station airing dramatized versions to rave reviews. Gladio both loved and hated it, every awful line making him wince, but the plot keeping him flicking pages despite himself.

"Another fighting book?" Prompto was craning his neck, trying to read over Gladio's shoulder. He snapped the book shut, glad he'd removed the cover after buying it. A light rub with a hank of steel wool wiped out the spine's title, and made it look like an old book he'd bought from a used store, like the hundreds of others' he'd read on battle tech and war moves.

"Yeah...samurai footwork," Gladio lied, folding his arms across his chest. "Like you'd read it; big, big words."

"H..hey! I read stuff!" Prompto grunted, cheeks reddening. "I'm not dumb..."

"Big difference between King's Knight Tech novels and classic lit, Prom," Gladio chuckled, feeling a bit guilty about the jab. Prompto had never been big on reading, even as a kid. The KKT novels had probably been the most the guy had read in years.

Ignis glanced at them in the rear view, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes. Noctis did nothing but snore, mouth open in an unlovely yap, his gums pink in the sunlight. If the people could see the crown prince now, they'd completely rethink their opinions on the boy.

Boy... the man, as he'd be so quick to point out. Ignis often forgot, and Gladio did it on purpose to annoy him.

Prompto was offended, and buried himself into his cellphone, clicking away messages on chatrooms, and pounding out a new level on King's Knight, shooting sour looks at Gladio every now and then. He'd forget about it five minutes later, but for now it soured the air.

Noct grunted, and shifted in sleep, his face sliding onto Ignis' shoulder. His mouth closed, cheek rubbing the fabric of Ignis' blazer. Gladio stifled a snicker, knowing the rumors among teens at the rest stops would ignite seeing this: four young men on a road trip, alone, for hours and hours, sharing a tent, sleeping together... it made for saucy posts on forums, not that he'd have told any of the others. Prompto wouldn't understand, Ignis would've ignored it, and Noct... who knows how he'd react.

People were dumb. That's all there was to it, most of the time. Ignoreable.

...said the man hiding he reading preferences, he thought.

"We're coming up to a rest area...anyone need a rest?" Ignis asked, softly. One hand gently closed Noct's jaw, as it slid open again, drool staining his shirt. "Noct excluded, of course... seems he won't be awake this afternoon."

"He drugged?" Gladio teased. "What beat him down?"

Ignis sighed, shoulders tight: his grip straightened on the steering wheel, eyes on the road. "...he had another episode last night. Tried to strangle me. I took care of it."

He glanced at Noct as he spoke, making sure he was still sleeping. "...I might've gone overboard on the milk, so blame this on me."

Prompto glanced up from his phone, mouth open. "O..oh. So he's still...? Not any better?"

Another sigh, Ignis glancing at Noct's sleeping face again. "No. And I don't believe it will during the trip, if you ask me. I believe it might be worth changing the tent assignments from now one... Noct can't sleep alone any longer."

"No big deal. I won't miss him kicking me in the ribs," Gladio remarked, a smirk playing on his lips. "Prompto's gas attacks, however."

"H..hey!" Prompto cried, cheeks blazing.

 

The rest stop was far from pristine: grease streaked every surface, old tiles were rotting in the noon sun behind the bathrooms, and several lewd sayings were scribbled around...conveniently placed holes in the stall, among other graffiti and sayings along the walls. A dive, in the truest sense of the word, but the Regalia was low on gas, they were all ripe from sweat, and there wasn't any other stops for the next few miles. It was now or never.

"Dibs on the shower!" Prompto cried, running off to the men's, phone blaring a fanfare from a won battle in King's Knight, fist to the sky in a bro-fist. Ignis closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shower is a relatively broad term for the hose and wall set up in there."

Gladio chuckled, dropping into a once yellow bench, now a faded colour nicely described as "mustard". "Let him have his fun. He always did have a complex about showers."

"...not to be rude, but we both could use a wash. Neither of us smells like a rose right now." Ignis let a wry smile trace across his lips. "Noct however..."

Noct was still asleep in the car, draped over his seat, hair rumpled in a black halo around his head, dark circles under his eyes. He was turning his head like something was passing by him, and muttering. Right then, he looked very old, a day's stubble darkening his jaw.

"...we gotta, you know... look into something for him soon," Gladio said, keeping his voice low. Ignis' brow hardened into a line, his jaw set. "'Something'?"

"Well, it isn't... normal for a guy to sleep fight, walk around, try to strangle people..." he trailed off, seeing Ignis' jaw tighten until it looked like stone, arms crossed across his chest. A vein pulsed in the left one, red under his tanned skin, arching away at the wrist.

"...right." Gladio nodded, opening his book.

He was lost again in the story: Cornelia and Schneider were on the run in the forest, the king's soldiers hot on their heels, the sounds of hoof beats echoing through the trees, lantern light flickering across their faces as they ducked and hid in the brush along the past, their-

 

"Clean as a baby's bottom!"

 

Prompto, shirtless, skinny body damp, droplets catching the light in peach fuzz on his face and chest. He smiled broadly, clearly freshly washed, his trousers damp from him pulling them on after, without drying off. Which was typical for him.

Gladio snapped his book shut, annoyed. "Goddamn, Prompto, you think this is a peep show? Put some clothes on, there's kids."

"Jealous much?" Prompto snapped back, making a fist, flexing his arm. The resulting bulge was slight, and certainly not anything to rival Gladio.

"...hardly." Gladio stood, shaking his head. He stuffed his book in his pack, shouldering it. "Gonna sluice off... don't get pervy on me, huh?" He smirked, heading into the men's, as Prompto tossed a can in his general direction, red faced. It bounced harmlessly off the gravel, hitting the wall.

 

* * *

 

The room was small, stinking of old piss from guys' who couldn't aim, and rust from the exposed pipes along the wall. The "shower" was quite literally a pipe hosed through the wall, over in a corner where a drain kept it from flooding. Gladio sighed, dropping his pack onto a sink, eyeing the floor: bathing in a traditional way wasn't an option, since the floor probably had five or six thousand germs on it, and a few diseases unknown to man.

He pulled his vest off, and undid his pants, figuring that was enough. He sniffed, the smell heady, urine, staleness, and body odor. "Guys can be pigs..." He muttered, heading to the shower stall.

"...any particular gentleman acting like a swine?" Ignis, undoing his shirt buttons, his skin pale where the shirt covered. "Don't worry with the shower setup after all... Prompto's broken out in a sort of rash where the water was. I'd rather brave the sinks."

 

* * * 

 

They both took simple sponge baths in the cloudy water of the sink, Gladio sighing as he washed off for the first time in... how long now? A week or two? He lost track of time easily out on the road, and days slid by in a blur of fights and driving.

"Not quite as fresh as a daisy, but it will suffice," Ignis muttered, putting on a clean shirt. Gladio chuckled, rubbing a cloth along his neck. "We'll find some stop up the road, and clean off properly."

"Uh, Noct's awake!" Prompto's voice called, something hitting the wall. Ignis looked concerned, and Gladio clenched a fist. "The hell?"

Someone shouted, a girl's voice, loud and shrill, insistent.

"Oh god..." Ignis rushed out, shirt flying open behind him, the door slamming.

Gladio came out into the sun, wincing at the sudden brightness: Noct was up, Ignis and Prompto both pulling his arms back, sword in the dirt, forgotten. A few teens were watching from the shadows of the shop, eyes glittering in the darkness.

Gladio walked over to them, and nodded briskly. "You all good?"

They nodded, a bit fearfully. The tallest, a red head with twin tails in yellow ribbons, sniffed. "Your friend is crazy, man! Crazy! Swung at us like a damn crazy mother-" She swore.

Mentally, Gladio slapped the girl a new one. In reality, he only clenched his teeth. "...he's got some issues. He walks in his sleep. We'll get him out of here, okay?"

The girl shook her head, defiant. "He outta be locked up!"

Gladios' jaw tightened, his teeth grinding. He stalked off, knowing it wasn't worth it.

Back in the parking lot, Noct was in the backseat of the Regalia, Ignis feeding him a small bit of milk from a bottle, and looking far too comfortable doing it. The "mother" image was loud and clear, and ripe for making fun of. But it wasn't worth it. Noct had some damage... it wasn't a laughing matter if he needed treatment now and then.

"...Gladio, you're reading Canary?!" Prompto cried, flicking through the book. Noct had kicked over Gladio's pack during his...attack, and the book had fallen out, into Prompto's hands.

Gladio's cheeks heated up, jaw clenching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, yes, this is a blatant FFIX reference!  
> What's it to ya? :P


	6. Side Story - Kyoto Breezes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different time, a different place.  
> A Final Fantasy of old Japan, but in a way, still of its own universe.

The long Winter had finally ended, and the Spring thaw was freeing the cherry blossoms from their white bed, red and pink showing through as the sun rose high in the sky. It got hot quickly, the sun already blazing at 8 am, the birds twittering in the branches of the West garden. Noctis took in a breath of the morning air, bringing it in through his nose, and exhaling, as he'd been taught. He felt calm, limbs loose and ready for movement, fighting, or anything else. 

He took a step, going into a stance without even thinking, hands clasped, the right over a closed fist, the common gesture of goodwill. He shifted his body weight downwards, until his hands touched his knee, stretching out his back muscles. It felt good, after the long Winter had kept them all inside, the only exercise what little practice could be done in the main hall, or their own rooms. The palace was big, the biggest in the lands owned by the royals, but it was stifling compared to free reign outside in the foothills and plains. 

He sighed, pulling the sash on his kimono tighter, frowning as he looked at the melting snow, trickles of it pattering from the trees into the fish pond, making ripples in the water, scaring the fish. The snows had kept everyone inside, but now that the Spring was thawing out the frozen world, his duties would begin anew, without a break. Including the planned trip to Edo, to the training camp there. 

Noctis didn't want to go; Gladio had insisted on it, saying the disciplines the monks had to teach would benefit Noctis greatly, indeed, benefit them all in the long run. Proper training in the ways of the sword was expected in a king, and Noctis was no exception to that, even if he was still just the crown prince. Training began on his thirteenth birthday, and had never stopped, and wouldn't until the day the crown was lowered onto his skull during the coronation.

He walked along the cobbled path towards the Moon Blossom courtyard, the largest garden in the palace grounds. It was called the Moon Blossom for the large blue flowers that grew profusely through the lawn, most those that only bloomed in the moonlight, the temple at the back built in the honor of the moon and ice goddes, Shiva. With the long Winter, it had been severely neglected, small vines wrapping around the face of the goddess statue, the candles frozen into useless hunks on the stone trench, the wicks snapped off. 

Noctis pulled the vines free of the stone, the wet sap gluing his fingers together, the smell sour; the Goddess deserved more respect than that. The garden shouldn't have been left to ruins like this.

"Noctis!" A voice rang out, the door to the dining hall slamming close, bouncing off the door frame to fly back open. An annoyed hand pulled it closed again, as the source of the voice, Prompto Argentum, raced along the cobblestones, kimono flying open behind him to show his skinny chest. Noctis rolled his eyes, and feigned having not heard him, settling on a bench, eyes closed as if he were meditating. Prompto, of course, ignored this, clattering into the gardens like a madman. "Noct! Didn't you hear me?" He bellowed, scattering small birds who'd been nesting in the trees, wings flapping in fear as they fled the sudden noise. 

Noctis finally opened his eyes, staring at Prompto: the smaller man had, again, forgotten his swords, and his kimono was open to the waist, like some common street urchin. The open clothes was nothing new, but forgetting his swords was a new sort of low, even for him. 

"Prompto, you're asking for a telling off like that. Dishonor in the man who forgets his father's face, his blades of steel, and his iron will," Noctis quoted, the mantra drilled into his head by Ignis, a common saying most of the ancient samurai's had held to. Prompto scratched his head, blinking at his bare hip. "Oh, yeah... uh... I think they're still in my room...?"

"You're asking me?" Noctis grunted, getting up. "What did you want, anyway? I was praying," He lied. It was probably some form of blasphemy to the gods, but he didn't have the heart to say he simply needed time alone from the others. The hall got noisy in the mornings, servants bustling in the massive meal,Ignis guiding him in the art of formal dining, Prompto making rude jokes, his father watching it all from the front of the room on his throne .

His father... King Regis. Strong, even though his protecting of the sacred crystal drained him so much...

Noctis wasn't even sure he'd seen the man out of his golden robes and scabbards, greying hair pulled back with a strip of silk. The silk was the hem from the queen's wedding gown, but few people knew this. Noctis wondered if his father was secretly afraid he'd be found womanly to wear silk like this, as it blatantly defied the rules of the samurai. 

Or did it matter? The old ways were dying out... a lot of the rules went lax as time went on, and many were bent to what worked best. Following the spirit of the rule if not the full letter of it was quite common in Insomnia. Even the crown city let the old laws pass for the new generation, when they became too archaic to bother with anymore. 

"We've gotta go to the chapel! Right now!" Prompto cried, cheeks red with excitement, waving his hands in the air like newly released doves. "We've got this big, big thing! Massive! Amazing!" 

"Best quit before you run out of adverbs, Prompto," Noctis quipped, getting to his feet, brushing off the front of his robe. "It's probably surprise kitchen detail, or some fancy dinner. I wouldn't get excited over it." He folded his arms, looking Prompto over. "You've really gotta start dressing properly, y'know... it's not going to go over well at the monk's camp, with all their rules."

"But that's just it!" Prompto cried. "Just come on!" He tugged Noctis' sleeve, pulling him along.

"Why?" Noctis snapped, irritated. "What is so damn-"

"You're gonna get married early! It's, like...Ugh!" Prompto waved his hand vaguely. 

Noctis didn't have any reply to this.

* * *

"Father..." Noctis said, softly, kneeling as was custom, head down, gaze to the palace floor. He kept his head bowed, until his father nodded, making a soft grunting noise. "Rise, Noctis."

Noctis sat back on his legs, keeping them folded under him, arms at his sides, the position long taught to him as proper when faced with someone above you in station. Even his own father didn't get a pass in this. Noctis would never be allowed to sit on a seat like the court members until the day he took the throne. 

"...I assume Prompto let you know of the news?" Regis asked, sipping deeply from his goblet, the gold designs etched onto it catching the light. "That one will never make a good husband, acting so rashly."

Noctis swallowed a laugh at that, knowing the only one Prompto desired was beyond him. Cindy, the American girl who worked the way station in Hammerhead, a hard worker to her core. She always said her work was the only man in her life. Despite her revealing kimono's and loose hair, in full defiance of fashion and proper attire, Cindy never once gave Prompto more than common politeness, despite the man's shameful flirting. She was as likely to budge on the matter as a boulder, but no one had the heart to crush Prompto's dreams.

"Possibly, father. But he's not the point right now, is he?" Noctis said, softly. From Regis' face, that frown deepening the lines around his mouth, Noctis had a bad feeling about the news to come. He knew it was about his marriage to Lady Luna, the Oracle, as part of a long ago made peace treaty. He'd only met her a few times as a child, and barely knew her. He didn't know how he felt about her, as their time together had been so long ago, it was nearly faded from his memories. But it wasn't to occur for several more months, long after his training was over with. 

"No...he isn't," Regis agreed, setting his drink down, and sitting upright on his throne. One hand worried with the silken strip, a sign he was stressed, but trying to hide it, as was proper of a king. One hid their emotions in public, so as not to seem womanly. "Your marriage is, my son. It's been moved from the planned date."

Moved? Nothing as important as a wedding date was ever moved in Insomnia's calander. What was going on?

"Yes, I understand, father. But..." He paused, taking a breath. "Might I ask why? It's odd to move it now, when my training isn't done yet."

The king nodded, sighing. "Certain... unforeseeable events have forced my hand, despite my wishes. You are to go to Altissia, and meet Lady Luna there. The wedding will be conducted when time permits, at the palace."

This was all moving far faster than Noctis ever could have imagined: his mind ached. "...I understand, father. Am I to travel alone?" 

"'course not," A voice drawled. Gladiolus, Noctis' old friend, and current teacher in the way of Bushido. As per usual, his kimono was undone in front, showing the elaborate dragon etched across his skin, scars dotting his chest. The ink had never faded from when it was first applied, marking him as Noctis' future guard. Next to him, Ignis nodded, pushing his spectacles up his thin nose yet again. Still a newer design, they didn't fit on his ears as they were supposed to, and slipped down often. 

"Together, you four are to travel to Altissa, with my blessing. You will take the royal carriage," Regis intoned. The carriage was fast, built light but sturdy, five jet black horses allowing it to all but fly across field and town. Only the king used it. Noctis had never set foot into it.

"Wow... the royal carriage?" Prompto murmured, shocked. "I can't even..."

Noctis stood, bowing low to his father. "I will not fail you, sire," He said, mind still racing. When he woke that morning, this was the last thing he could have possibly imagined happening that afternoon. 

Regis smiled, but it was tight, almost pained. Neither of them noticed it, as they talked amongst themselves, excited and worried over the trip. 

None of them could've known this was to change their lives forever. Not all of them would return to Insomnia, and the land would be rocked by battles unimagined. 

But, for now, as Noctis left the palace for his rooms to pack his few simple belongings, there was the sun in the cherry trees, the trill of the birds, and the excitement and fear of a cross country journey to meet his bride. 

The petals fell into the pond, making ripples. They looked for all the world like blood drops, as they sank into the water, breaking apart in small trails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of the dialogue or mentions of battle and samurai tech is meant to be taken as historically accurate. This "side story" is a FF XV designed around Japan in the Kyoto region, but is still heavily fictional.


	7. Side Story - Victorian Steam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another time, another place.  
> The era of progress, steam power taking over the landscape. The prince, Noctis of Insomnia, disapproved, but what can one do?  
> Progress is progress.

It was a good year, with the smell of progress lingering in the air, making everyone feel lighter in their hearts. The city had grown over the years, and the kingdom had certainly felt it: the castle had been small once it began, but over the years towers and additions grew almost like flowers, blossoming over the stone until the kingdom's flag flew high above everything else, visible from miles away on the West tower's top spire. Even then, the progress kept on, with outbuildings and spires peeking free of the walls as the years went on. With the new steam power currently sweeping the land, building could go long into the night, with few workers. Yes, it was a good year, and the scent of progress filled everyone's lungs with cheer.

Noctis, the crown prince of the kingdom, had had enough of the progress, as the sound of hammering went long into the night, and kept many awake as builders stamped along scaffolding wrapped around the exterior of the castle like spiderwebs, knocking in new stones and glass to empty window frames. Noctis didn't care about progress anymore, all he wanted was some sleep, and less headaches.

That morning at breakfast, Noctis dozed over his eggs, as Ignis recited his daily schedule in a drone, Prompto scarfing down bacon like it was going out of style, grease staining his chin. Gladio hadn't arrived yet, as the Guard was expected to walk the perimeter of the castle every morning, making positive there were no holes in the walls, or suspicious people wandering about. At this point, it was more the tradition of the thing than pure safety measures, but it was required daily by orders of the king, along with routine checks of the steam release valves, and oil tanks in the courtyard. 

"...and thus, Noctis was slapped across the scalp for sleeping in his breakfast," Ignis said, sharply, pushing his glasses up his thin nose. His frown nearly made the monocle in his right eye fall into his potatoes. His vision was alright enough without it, good enough to read or do menial tasks, but at this point it was for the look of the thing, as it was the height of current fashion. He took in a breath, as Noct snorted, sitting up quickly, a sliver of bacon sticking to his chin. "I'm awake, I'm awake," he protested, hurriedly. 

Prompto reached across the table to pull the bacon off, upsetting the milk jug into the platter of eggs. The milk sopped the table cloth, and spread across the place settings, the ruined eggs swimming on the plate. Ignis sighed, and snapped the daily schedule shut. "...this is going splendidly."

"I'm sorry-" Prompto began, but the hall door banged open, a whiff of sweat and oil wafting in from outside, steam clouding the courtyard from a passing delivery cart. Gladio slammed the doors behind him, wiping oil splatters off his once pristine uniform blazer. "Blew a jenny in the back...light's might be out in the men's room for awhile. Gonna take a few days to get new parts."

"Not a worry, Gladio, we'll all make do," Ignis said, getting up to pour some tea for them all, the scent of lemon filling the air. "Sometimes it feels like all this progress is more a step back than forwards..."

"Yeah, but, like, the King approves it all. And it's pretty great they made the carriages go without horses," Prompto said around a mouthful of pancake. 

Noct's eyes had slid closed again, and his head was drooping again. Under the table, Prompto sharply kicked his ankle, shaking him awake. He kicked back, annoyed. "Quit it."

"Then quit sleeping in your food," Prompto shot back, icily, buttering a roll. For someone with such a thin build, Prompto ate enough to kill a cow at meals, and complained nearly all the time about still being hungry during runs and chores.

"I was up all night from the damn hammering," Noct said, a bit louder than he meant. His voice carried in the stone room, and it was impossible to ignore it. At the sideboard, Ignis' shoulders drooped, as he turned back with a filled tray. "Progress is progress, Noct. The King has those men working like dogs just to keep up with the demands."

"Wha...what demands?" Noct said, stuttering slightly in his annoyance. "Hot water isn't anything new, why do we need steam power for it?" 

"It does a lot, Noct... your fancy weapons don't work on hope." Ignis smirked at this, knowing he'd gotten a good jab in for once. Living with the three of them and their sarcastic attitudes had been chipping away at the cold exterior of Ignis' personality the past few months, the Ice King showing a rotten core when he chose. The odd sarcastic joke or light hearted insult was becoming more and more common from the otherwise precise and predictable Ignis. 

Gladio piled his plate with bacon, oil dripping on the already soiled tablecloth. Ignis' upper lip twitched, but he said nothing. Everything was a mess already, so what more harm did a few oil spots cause at this rate? Gladio was constantly dripping various things from jobs around the castle, and it often stained his clothes beyond cleaning. 

In the age of progress, everyone had their chores, and not even Noct was free from it; his schedule included several pep talks to the people, and charity signings and readings of the trashy novel the castle's press had released, retelling the history of Insomnia in a soap opera style road trip, inventing an even more advanced society of motorized cars, robotic assassins, and hyper travels. It was quite popular, and Noct couldn't stand it. He'd tried to read it, but the fictional him, in leather and trench coats, wielding a sword running on laser power, was such a mind screw, he'd given up after awhile.

"Long story short, Noct... progress is going to keep on. The discoveries our scientists have made are amazing. Steam, who could've imagined even two or three years ago?" Ignis enthused, setting the tray down. The lemon tea was a specialty of his, lightly sugared, with a slice of cucumber adding flavor. The drink of royalty, yes, but a fine one.

"...fine. I get it. Just tell 'em to keep it the hell down at 2 am, or get them to add sound proofing to my rooms, okay?" His tone was a bit harsher than he'd intended, and Gladio winced, hastily swallowing his bacon. "Alright, guys...enough."

"Yeah, getting into a war isn't a good idea right now..." Prompto began, but he cut himself off. 

"...got something to tell us, there, Prom?" Noct asked, raising an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"Uh...uhmmm...." Prompto went several shades of red, and suddenly became very preoccupied with shifting the lemon in his tea, sipping it carefully. 

"Prom..." Noct said, warningly. 

"Alright, fine!" Prompto's cheeks went scarlet. "...we're going on a thing..."

"A thing?" Gladio chuckled. "Simplifying much, Prom?" 

"What Prompto has spoiled early was meant to be a surprise..." Ignis said, sourly, gathering the dirty plates. "We're to travel to Altissa, beginning this afternoon. As soon as we're done with our food, and have met with the king."

"Why?" Noct asked, fiddling with his watch. He popped the golden cover, a light melody tinkling. His watch was wrong, as he'd forgotten to wind it, but he hadn't opened it to check the time. 

Smiling serenely at him, Lunafreya glanced at him sideways from the picture inside the watch frame, a fancy one in colour that showed the silver blonde of her hair, cherry red of her dress and corset. It was a lovely picture, and it was the only way he knew her now. They'd met often as children, playing in the halls as their parents discussed the matters of the kingdom. Even as children, they knew they were to marry as adults, as Lunafreya had a long, convoluted destiny to uphold. Noct didn't understand, didn't pretend to fully: Luna, as he called her, had her life, her worries, and he had his. They were almost like cousins rather than spouses to be, writing letters once a year, and meeting, silently, at banquets. The last time Noct had met her, Luna had presented him with the watch, radiant in a silver gown and hat. She'd only said a few words to him, but he still remember them. 

"When ever things get too rough, just know I'm there to listen."

Luna, he thought, staring into the picture's silvery eyes, god sometimes I wish you were here.

Noct had, as a rule, been forbidden from any prolonged exposure to women, beyond the frumpy maids and dithery chamber girls. Not that he wanted to attempt courting one, but sometimes, thinking of Luna, not smelling of oil or burnt food like the others so often did, sitting there quietly to listen to his worries soothed him in ways he couldn't fully articulate. 

"...visit Altissa on her command," Ignis had been saying, but Noct hadn't listened. He glanced up, right as the cogs and gears in the wall began to grind, the bell ringing from its perch in the tower. Breakfast was over, the bell signifying the changing of any dirty linens on the table, and clearing away the dirty dishes. Everyone else shuffled for the door, but Noct hung back, looking out the window at the gardens, pipes running along the top of the walls to carry rainwater to the blossoms and shrubs, a mechanical cupid spinning dully in the fountain nearby. 

It was lovely, but smacked of this "progress" everyone was so in love with. Steam and oil power, bringing the world into a new era, the past of the 1850's left behind in a hot cloud of steam from a passing motor car or ride-cart. It was scary, and Noct didn't know how he was going to rule a kingdom progressing further than he was used to. 

Finally, he meandered outside, sitting on the benches beneath the grand hall's windows, barely hidden if anyone wanted him, but alone for the second. 

"...Noct?" Prompto, leaning out the window, suit coat undone. "You okay, buddy?"

"...I'm just thinking, Prom. What's up?" 

Prompto slid from the window onto the bench, dropping down next to Noct. "So...uh...everything good?" He asked, fixing his coat. As usual, his spats were crooked, and he'd forgotten to do up one suspender. Prompto would probably forget his head if it wasn't tied on.

"...I'm just thinking. Things are...moving too fast for my liking." He closed his watch, sliding it back into his pocket. "Not even five years ago we were living well, and now steam is blowing up our arses. What even happened?"

"Just progress, buddy. Nothing you can do anything about." Prompto shrugged, watching the cupid rise up, water blowing from its little horn to water the rose bushes nearby. "It makes things easier, anyway."

Noct shrugged, fiddling with the buckle on his suit coat. "...what's the big deal, really? What were you on about this morning?"

Prompto went very red, and began fixing his trouser creases, like someone important was watching, and they needed to be perfectly presentable. 

"..Prom, your crease is going to poke someone's eye out, quit it!" Noct snapped, pulling Prompto's hand away. "Spill."

"...we'regoingtoAltissatomeetLunafreyaearlyforthewedding!" Prompto exploded, in a long winded vocal tic. Noct's eyes widened, eyebrows raised. "The wedding isn't until next month. Why go meet her? Isn't she busy with that thing..."

"Uh, well...Leviathon Oil finished the merger. Lunafreya is rolling in the dough, and...uhm...the king kinda thought...the marriage should go on now, rather than later."

"...I guess I don't get a say, do I?" Noct said, sourly. 

"Not when it comes to this," Ignis said, leaning out the window. "The carriage is ready to go, Noct. The king sends his regards."

"Dad can't even be bothered to say goodbye, huh?" Noct said, getting to his feet. He put his bowler on, glancing at the castle: the lights were on in the king's chambers, the curtains tightly drawn. "...fine. I see how it is."

"Where'd I...?" Prompto trailed off, looking around the benche. "My walking stick! Gladio, I'm going to kill you if you used it as a oil stick again!"

Gladio's laughter echoed from inside, Prompto stomping off with clenched fists.

* * *

The carriage had once been pulled by six geldings, solid black with dappled spots, golden tackles hitching them to the carriage front. When steam power grew, the horses were replaced with two long rubes, sticking out behind to power it along, the tackle for the driver replaced with a shiny steering wheel. It was they very picture of modern progress.

Gladio had been wrestled into a red two piece, hat crookedly shoved down on his too short hair, collar crooked on his wide shoulders. Prompto had found his stick in the dog's bed, and held it tightly to his side, fresh teeth marks marring the once pristine cherry wood finish. 

Noct adjusted his cufflinks, about to get into the carriage seat-

"Noctis." 

He turned, blinking in the sudden bright sunlight: his father, regal and proper in a black suit and trousers, top hat gleaming on his head. The dress of a man clothed to impress business partners, as opposed to practicality. 

"Father," Noct said, nodding. 

"...I want you to know, Noct, that I think this is for the best. Lunafreya will make our kingdom whole again. The industry and oil production will go up, and..." 

A smile split his greying beard. "...I'd finally hear children running about again."

Even though everything in him was yelling against it, Noct nodded again, taking the gloved hand his father extended, shaking it properly. "Thank you..."

"...you've you weapons. Food?""

"Everything we could need, sire," Ignis said, a jaunty motoring cap perched on his head. "I'll make sure we make it alive."

"Good man," the king nodded. With a curt, tight bow, he turned, and went back inside, as Noct took a long, final look at the castle above him, the sun making the stones seem to glow.

Final? Now why, why did he think of it that way?

"Noct!" Prompto called, already in the carriage. 

"Coming," he said, fixing his hat. "I'm coming."


	8. Side Story - Finest Fantasies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another time, a different world...  
> Noctis has just been given the worst news, a death sentence, a ticking clock. The video game Final Fantasy XV is his only escape from reality.

Final Fantasy XV was the most popular role playing action game at the moment, selling within the millions after only being out a few weeks, surpassing all expected sales highs. The main crowd was the mid teens to late twenties demographic, and the mixture of rpg and exploration elements, with emphasis on forging your own path to plot points to further the story, drew in even reluctant players. It was quite the success. The story of a young royal facing the odds to protect his kingdom from destruction, all while trying to get to his soon to be wife, Lady Lunafreya, was more than riveting. The strong relationships between the main character and his four comrades drew in most, while the long distance love story with Luna kept others engaged.

The only real criticisms the game received concerned how vanilla and inoffensive the main character, Nojun, was: despite deeply in depth character customization, he was still blandly presented, a character players were supposed to project themselves onto, to immerse in the role playing elements more. Despite previous installments of the franchise purposefully having a named, unique main to play as, it was decided that this game required something new to make it stand out more from the previous games. This garnered several negative reviews, with some gaming websites going so far as to imply the flaw as game breaking.

To many, it didn't matter. After all, assuming the mindset of the main character was what made the Final Fantasy series so endearing. To escape from reality, and into a fantasy universe.

That was all some people wanted. That escape into another place and time.

* * *

"...so it's terminal?"

His voice was a bit too chipper for such a question, but at this point, after all the tests, exams, being poked and pricked, and even suffering a radiation scan in nothing but skimpy briefs to ensure all his body was mapped, Noctis was beyond thinking things were just going to gloss over. They didn't do all this when you were going to be perfectly fine. They didn't go through this much damn trouble for a stubbed toe or cold. This was serious.

"...well...there are...more delicate ways to put it," the doctor said, scratching his unshaven cheek. "...but yes...it is. It's gone from the left to the right... we can removed them, but-"

"At this point, it wouldn't matter?" Noctis interrupted. He crossed his legs, sitting back in the uncomfortable leather chair of the examination room. The doctor sat across from him in a wheeled chair, barely meeting Noctis' eyes as he looked over a series of papers on his clipboard. Medical charts from past examinations, as well as the results of full body scans and tests. The cancer had begun when Noctis was fourteen, a strange lump he ignored and avoided out of embarrassment becoming a lot worse. By the time he swallowed his pride for a doctor visit, it was too late. And now, even if they removed them both, pride or cosmetic vanity be damned...

"...not particularly," The doctor finally said. "It would only delay the... it would only put off the final consequence by a few months, a year at the most. A lot of pain for you for what ammounts to a band-aid. No one would want that for you at this point. And most don't want the...well..you know...look of it."

"I get it, doc: cutting out my junk won't help at this point," Noctis said, crudely. "I'm doomed to die a virgin." He cocked a smile at this, hiding his pain behind jokes and smirks.

The doctor looked down, but he couldn't hide the light flush that came to his cheeks. "...there are worse things in life, young man. That's not something you need to worry about right now."

"Yeah, yeah..." Noctis waved this off, even as he screamed inside: so this was it, then. It was really happening. Despite all the better efforts of modern science, despite the fact hundreds upon thousands of men grew and lived normally, made love, met their partners, had kids, or adopted them...

He, however, because of a small lump appearing on the inner side of it, near his thigh, he would never know all that. Sure, he could get some pity hookup with a "I'm literally dying" line at Uni, but what good was that? Plus, despite his outward attitude on it, he was a romantic. He hadn't yet, at nineteen, because he hadn't found the one. His true love, soul mate, whatever you wanted to call it. They'd eluded him so far, and now...

"...I'm sorry." The doctor was sitting up, looking right into Noctis' eyes. "I'm sorry, Noctis."

Noctis made a grunting noise, looking away. He was sorry? This man, a well to do doctor, wedding band glinting on his finger, picture on his desk showing a smiling wife and two twin boys. He'd had his life, found his true love. He didn't know what it was like to be told your own body, the parts of you meant to create life to sustain a legacy of your existence, had betrayed you in the end.

"Well that's just easy for you to say, isn't it?" He said, before he could stop himself. His tone was hard and icy, angry despite the fact it wasn't the doctor's fault. "You can just say 'sorry', and waltz off to your family like it's no big deal. Meanwhile, I'm just goddamn dying, but no skin off your nose, right, doc?"

The doctor winced at the brunt of his tirade, staring at the floor. Noctis finally stopped, sitting back down, breathing hard. He'd run out of words.

"...what do you want me to say?" The doctor asked, softly. He held his clipboard tightly, looking at Noctis with a mixture of pity and sadness in his eyes. "If there was anything we could do... you know we'd do it."

Despite his better judgement, Noctis only grunted, getting to his feet. The bill was prepaid, so there was nothing else to do here. He shoved past the doctor into the waiting room, which was overly colourful and bright. The doctor was also a pediatrician, treating to age twenty, so Noctis had to wade through screaming, coughing kids playing listlessly with the offered toys and touch screen game station, older kids tapping away on cells and tablets. They had everything ahead of them, and nothing to lose.

He winced at the sunlight, as it hit his eyes outside: it was too nice a day to be told you were dying slowly from cancer, he thought.

* * * 

Noctis had lived alone for several years, after the fallout with his father. He'd been trying to get Noctis into relationships, dropping hints and comments about grandkids, until fission was reached, resulting in a pure neuclear meltdown between them.

He'd come home from classes that night to an overly chatty father, asking several times over dinner about the girl Noctis was dating on and off, Melissa. Noctis had dodged the subject several times in the past, since he'd dropped her weeks before. His father had always been obsessed with his love life: he wasn't getting any younger, and it was a dream of his to see Noctis succeed with family and a job. Noctis, however, wasn't really... in the mood. He knew he wasn't into men or anything, but all the women in his classes were just vapid, immature types, flirting insanely with anything with a zipper that crossed their path. He didn't want something like that in a mate, male or female. He'd tried guys, lightly, and it wasn't any better. All anyone wanted was to hop into bed, with little to no interludes between. Not even a light kiss was enough. It was either right into bed for hardcore lovemaking, or nothing.

Noctis was simply uninterested in that. No, he was simply uninterested in everyone else's crap. What had happened to people's ideas of romance and relationships?

He'd tried to explain to his father, but it hadn't ended well: yelling and swearing had happened, a plate had fallen to the floor when Noctis had stood, and everything was over in five minutes or less. After being told to "Get in line, or get out of my house", Noctis had taken it to heart: he'd packed up and moved in the middle of the night, taking money he'd saved from his bookstore job to rent a small apartment. He hadn't spoken to his dad in over six months since, living by the skin of his teeth in two rooms, playing too many video games, and trying to work on his book. Everything had been fine, if lonely.

And now this. A death sentence, handed out with the most blaise series of words any doctor had ever uttered. Granted, his explosion hadn't been called for, but the doctor's bedside manner needed some work.

He almost picked up the phone: surely dying was worth calling his dad over, but something in his mind flatly and utterly refused, and demanded he play video games instead.

With a sigh, he dropped onto the used couch he'd found by the road, flicking on the tv. The friendly red eye of the game machine blinked to life, and the main menu of Final Fantasy XV began to play the calm, violin riddled main theme of the series. Just hearing it made his mind slow down, his thoughts no longer racing around like rabid things. He clicked start, and lost himself to the free-roaming world of the game for three straight hours.

* * *

A week wasted by. Noctis put far too many hours into FFXV, leveling up into the early 80's from a Level 23 game save, gathering hundreds of items and gil. He ignored all calls for an entire weekend, working away at levels and gear, trying his damndest to get Prompto's photography level up for that gold trophy, spending a good chunk of his paycheck for the dlc clothes pack for the added HP boosters.

In short, his life spiraled. He ate less, he slept a few hours at the most, and skipped a good deal of classes, coming home long enough to shower and sometimes scrape a razor across his stubbled face before jumping back into the game world.

Despite his usual standoffish behaivor at class, a few people had trickled into his life, getting close enough to actually befriend him. Texts zipped in from them the first few days, all steadily ignored. Finally, his best friend, Cary, interupted his game session with a voice chat, the ping pausing his methodical item organizing.

"Dude, what the hell? You've missed the past two classes this afternoon. Everything okay?"

Despite his stereotype "surfer bro" accent, honed from a childhood in the ridiculously false looking California coast, nearly everything he said coming out like he should be standing around as an extra on some teen soap opera, true concern seeped through, even distorted by the voice app.

"...I'm fine," Noctis said, after a few moments, scratching his chin, feeling stubble scrape his fingertips. "I'm fine, okay?"

"Are you, man? You never miss class, unless you're sick or dying." It was meant as a joke, but it stung. Noctis winced, closing the voice app to finish up organizing his gear. The chat popped back up in less than a second, Cary irritated now. "Don't do that, man. Don't shut me out like that. What's up?"

It was a good five minutes before he spoke, thinking it over carefully, trying to choose his words for the least shock impact. "...I...had a thing... at the doctor's. A few more tests..."

"Yeah, you told me last week. The scan thing..."

"...yeah...well...it...I got my results back today." A pause, as he swallowed hard, vision blurring. "...it's cancer."

Cary was quiet for so long, Noctis' hovered a finger over the X button to exit the chat. Finally, he spoke again, voice tight. "...they said it was just a fat pocket or something stupid like that."

"Yeah...well." Noctis dragged a hand through his hair, feeling how greasy it was. When was the last time he'd showered? "...I've got a few months...a year. They didn't get to it in time, and it's...uh...like...they could...remove 'em...but..."

"...but it's too far gone?" Cary asked, softly. All sense of humor was gone from his tone.

"Yeah."

Cary took a breath, the mic picking it up as feedback. "...damn."

"Tell me about it." Noctis set the controller down, picking at the hole in his jeans on the knee. "I mean...I'm nineteen. I didn't even graduiate. And now..." He trailed off.

"Hey, no, don't go there, man." Cary sighed. "...you've been logged in for six hours, man. God, are you even showering? Eating?"

"Hey, can't I get a break?" Noctis snapped, defensive. "It's my time to waste."

"You're going to die, Noct." He'd never heard Cary so serious. "This isn't a game. You've got a few months, and you're wasting it on Final Fantasy?"

"I'm almost at the end...just level grinding." His voice was low, almost broken. "...I wanna see how it ends. If Nojun gets to Luna, or...what."

"Well, he doesn't-" Cary began.

"Dude, really? I'm already dying...don't blow the ending for me now."

"I'm coming over." Cary's voice was small. "Alright? Don't argue. You need some help, just from listening to you." Another pause. "...I can literally almost see you. You haven't shaved, haven't showered, and I bet you're still wearing the same dirty shirt from yesterday. I hit all the right spots yet?"

More than a few; everything Cary had said was true. Noctis was going into a funk, the game becoming an escape. It wasn't healthy. There was probably some kind of mental thing going on there, to boot. Deep crap he wasn't ready to face yet.

"...have you told your dad?"

"What do you think?" Noctis said, getting up. He yanked off the smelly shirt, glancing in the mirror: dirt and spilled coffee from yesterday smudged his chest, and a light stain from spilled chip dip marred the white of his belly. "You know how obsessed he is with kids and...stuff..."

"Yeah...this is gonna wreck him," Cary said, noise on his end making it obvious he was dressing, or packing something.

"Thanks, make me feel worse, huh?" Noctis snapped, sniffing a shirt from the pile on the floor, not noticing anything too horrifically offensive on it. "'Sorry, dad, my junk got a bump, and now I'm dying. Kiss off those grand kids'!"

The jaunty tone he adopted even made him wince. He pulled on the shirt, just glad the game app didn't do video chat.

"...hiding what you feel in jokes and sarcasm isn't really healthy, you know." A thud, like a door opening. "I'm headed over, Noct. Don't argue."

With a joyful beep and "Goodbye!" message, the app disconnected, the game starting back up. He hit save, and exited the game, the main menu flicking on to show the dumb anime backdrop he'd bought from the game store: the three friends in FFXV, minus Nojun, due to player customization making artwork hard to make or market: Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis in a booth, Cindy, the overly busty, stereotype accent wielding woman character who worked in the garage nonsensically serving them burgers, dressed like a 50's carhop girl. It didn't have to make sense, she wasn't the focus here. The focus was the map, scrawled with arrows and notes, Prompto's mouth open like he was arguing, Gladio rolling his eyes, and Ignis frowning at the map. It could be a screen cap from the game, beyond the anime style, and Nojun's absence. Noctis had styled Nojun to look as much like himself as the character creator allowed, so mentally, he slid himself into the invitingly open seat in the booth, inches from Cindy's warm offering of burgers and curly fries.

The thought made him smile, and for another few moments, he was lost to the fantasy world.

* * *

Well... maybe more than a few, as the harsh buzz of the doorbell snapped him back to reality, his eyes flicking to the neon display of the clock on his bed table: more than twenty minutes had passed of him just staring at the picture, phasing out.

He swallowed, his throat dry and thick, and shut off the machine.

The picture flickered for a second, then dwindled down to a dot, vanishing.  
* * *

True to his word, Cary was over in less than twenty minutes, banging in without even knocking. Noctis was sitting on the couch, in the dark, staring at the blank TV. "...not even a knock? I could've been naked or something," He said, sourly.

"The fact you aren't still playing is shocking enough. And it's not like I didn't see your pasty white butt in high school." Cary flicked on a light, and Noctis winced, making a noise like a screech. He had lost track of time sitting in the dark, and his eyes had adjusted to it, the light piercing his skull like a knife.

"...turning into a bat now?" Cary said, sitting down. "...Noctis...we need to talk."

He gently put a hand on Noctis' shoulder, trying to be comforting. Noctis flinched, and jerked away from Cary, getting up. "Don't do that."

"...I'm trying to help," Cary said, softly. "...from the smell, you haven't showered in awhile. Why don't you go do that?" His tone was the condescending one of a school teacher to a rowdy student.

"...fine." He gritted his teeth.

"...and shave. And put on some deodorant for the...everything. Then we'll go out for lunch," Cary said briskly, already picking up some clothes from the floor, stuffing them into the hamper.

"Jeez, what are you, my mother?" Noctis snapped.

Cary, tanned, dyed blonde, surfer bro Cary, looked at Noctis with a hard, sour look. "...I'm trying to help, Noctis. This isn't healthy. None of this. You need to get out for a little."

"I said fine!" Noctis screamed. He brushed past Cary into the bathroom, slamming the door. He locked it, turning the shower on to block any noise. The razor sat on the counter, the steam rose in the room from the hot water. With a sigh, he decided to at least clean himself slightly, and undressed.

* * *

"Order whatever," Cary said, as Noctis glared at the menu. The steakhouse sold a lot of high class meats and salads, and simple stuff like a burger/fires combo. He sighed, setting the menu down. "Burger is fine."

"Live a little," Cary said. He winced after, hiding his face with the menu.

Noctis slumped down in his seat.

* * *

After a nearly wordless lunch, Cary drove them back to Noctis' apartment, trying to drudge up a conversation. Noctis shot almost everything down, acting like a child told no in a store. Finally, Cary grunted, parking in front of the apartment building, doors locked. Clouds built, and a roll of distant thunder threatened rain.

"...look..." He glanced at Noctis, sighing. "...don't make this hard just because of the past, huh?"

Noctis, in one of his "experimental" phases, had briefly gone out with Cory. Nothing was official, nothing happened past a chaste kiss on the cheek, and Noctis broke it off pretty quick. Cary didn't take it to heart, and they remained friends. Now, it just hurt. It hurt a lot.

"...I'm not." Noctis sighed. "...aren't I allowed a time to feel sorry for myself?" His voice was low, almost emotionless. He hated it.

"I guess," Cary allowed, glancing at the sky. "It's gonna storm, from the looks of it."

The subject change didn't make him feel any better.

"...thanks for lunch, Car. " He undid the seat belt. "...I'll do better, okay? But right now...I...I need the time alone."

Cary nodded, smiling weakly. "It's okay, Noctis... I get it."

* * *

Noctis did his best that night, washing and shaving. Bathed, he decided to immerse again, escape the harsh reality. He'd call his dad... he would...

Soon.

He played for several long hours, leveling up into the late 90's, gathering enough gil to buy some new clothes and weapons. He was nearly to the end of level 8 when the lightning hit.

The light flashed, filling the room in white, the controller in his hands shaking and burning, his skin tingling.

Everything went black.

* * *

He woke in light again, but it was different: the stale air of his apartment was replaced by the scent of pines and water, the land bumping around beanth him. He was in a car, obviously. This had to be a dream...

His body felt different, tighter and leaner. His skin felt hot to the touch. Leather creaked on his chest, and his hair hung into his eyes like some kind of anime main.

No... like...

His eyes snapped open, and he sat up: the car drove over a low bridge, water rushing below through a valley, pine and spruce and trees he couldn't even identify lining the banks. The sky was brilliantly blue, puffy white clouds passing by. The air was fresh, without the staleness of oil pollution or city smell.

"Hey, Noct...finally awake?" A voice chuckled. Besides him, a blonde man in a vest and skinny jeans grinned, eyes bright. He cocked his head, frowning. "Hey...you okay buddy?"

Noctis blinked. "...Prompto?"

Prompto? How was that possible?

"Uh...yeah?" Prompto's frown deepened. "Hey, Gladio, I think Noct scrambled his brain with that last one. Cindy needs to curb the levels on her hunt requests."

"Naw," A deep voice replied, the man in the passenger seat glancing back at them, a scar across one eye, chest bare under black leather. "He's fine. Just needs some good food."

As if in reply, Noctis' newly abbed belly growled, and he winced. The drive, a slender man in glasses, chuckled. "We'll be at a station soon. We'll get some food there."

"Awww, Iggy! Can't we get Big Girl?" Prompto whined. Gladio shot him a look. "That crap tastes like stale Chocobo s-"

"Gladio," Ignis warned. "We'll see, Prompto. Until then, kindly sit down. I'd rather not loose one of you due to your own stupidity."

"Fiiiiine," Prompto sighed, flopping down into the seat, the plastic creaking. Gladio cracked a book, flicking through it. The letters were Japanese, but Noctis could read them without any issues.

He smiled, relaxing on the seat, watching the scenery he knew so well go by; dream or not, he'd gotten what he wanted. An escape from his dark reality. He only hoped it didn't have to end.  
* * *  
Final Fantasy XV was the most popular role playing action game at the moment, selling within the millions after only being out a few weeks, surpassing all expected sales highs. The main crowd was the mid teens to late twenties demographic, and the mixture of rpg and exploration elements, with emphasis on forging your own path to plot points to further the story, drew in even reluctant players. It was quite the success. The story of a young royal facing the odds to protect his kingdom from destruction, all while trying to get to his soon to be wife, Lady Lunafreya, was more than riveting. The strong relationships between the main character, Noctis, and his four comrades drew in most, while the long distance love story with Luna kept others engaged.

The road trip style of the main plot did lag on for awhile, but it was all worth it when the plot got going. Noctis' fate went down as one of the darkest in the history of the Final Fantasy series, but the ending, with he and Luna finally happy, was a light in the darkness for most.

Because, in the end, after all the pain and loss

Noctis got a happy ending after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit made: Cary became Cory in the editing phase. My apologies >.<


	9. In My Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During one of his worst nightmares, Noctis faces his inner demons at last

It had been a long time since they'd last rested, the fights coming hard and fast along the plains and valleys. Ever since Noctis had found the relics, the weapons once used by the great kings of Lucis, it seemed monsters were zoning in on them with alarming regularity, with several dozen coming every hour.

So, by the time they found another resting spot, the old runes glowing a dull blue, crackling with disuse, he was exhausted from the nonstop warps, every muscle on fire. Sitting down made his knees pop audibly, Prompto wincing.

"Hey, bud, just take it easy this time... we've got the tent and everything," he said, even as he wiped sweat from his brow. It had been hard on everyone, the fights, but Noctis often did the most work, warping to deal a killing blow, or a higher spot to knock rocks onto creatures heads from above.

Small injuries dotted all of them, a cut marring Prompto's arm and along his side, Ignis nursing a twisted ankle from falling in the rock pits, even Gladio suffering sprains, aches, and a possibly broken left thumb from a fumbled hit to a large sand crab they'd battled by the water edge.

"I'm fine," Noctis insisted, thickly, fighting to keep his eyes open. The temptation to close them, to slump in his camp chair, or even to let his body merely collapse to the ground right there too hard to defeat anymore.

"Bud, come on... we all got beat down good. Just rest a little, we've got this." He offered a smile, but it seemed forced, more like a wince.

Noctis didn't reply, simply giving in this time; he could fight it all he wanted, but the others saw through him easily. If they said he needed rest, than he probably needed the rest. His eyes and body agreed, relaxing lazily into the stiff fabric. The sounds of the group unpacking the tents and camp gear faded into the background, the distant song of the ocean slapping the shore getting louder, to him. He focused on it, an old trick his mother had taught him a long time ago when sleep refused to take him into its hold at night.

Mother... gone for over ten years now. The memories of her were fuzzy in his mind, like seeing them through a cloudy window, or a melting sugar pane. Just bits and pieces, like the smell of her perfumes, the touch of her hand on his cheek, her smile when he was good, her frown whenever he happened to misbehave, which wasn't as often as you'd think.

The world faded around him.  
* * *  
"...tis?"

A soft voice, warm and kind, a voice he never thought he'd hear again, not in this life, anyway. Mother.

He blinked, the sunlight harsh, his vision fuzzy. He rubbed the sleep away, yawning loudly as he stretched, scratching his belly.

His mother laughed, the sound like bells. "You look like a kitten when you do that," she said, sitting besides him on the grass. His vision cleared, and he realized he was wearing black shorts and a bright coloured play shirt, like he used to when he was a small boy, his feet shoved into slip ons without socks. However, he was still his normal adult size, the clothes grown to fit. He didn't think of it then, but it was obvious he was dreaming simply based on this.

That, and his mother, clothed in a red skirt and light top, skin tanned and flawless in the sunlight, was smiling at him, sitting on grass bright enough to be neon. The air was shimmering, like with heat waves or water rippling on a lake surface. The sky was a brillant blue you only saw in storybooks. It was all too perfect.

"Uh, sorry," He said, his voice its normal pitch, rather than the high tone of a little boy he'd expected to hear. "I didn't mean to fall asleep..."

"It's not a bother... the day is so perfect, I hadn't noticed you were gone until you didn't answer me." She laughed, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear.

It was all too perfect, like a nicely scripted moment in a play, a particularly well shot movie moment. It didn't feel real, even as he lived it.

"Mama," he said softly, using the name he'd only used in private, a more polite "Mother" spoken in public, "I know you aren't... really here. I'm not here, either. This is just a dream... isn't it?"

She frowned, slightly, tilting her head. "I suppose... but does that matter right now? Can't you just enjoy this moment?"  
* * *  
"...mama..."

"Mama?" Gladio grunted, staring at Noctis quizzically. "What's up with that?"

"Noctis is dreaming of his mother again, I'd dare say... we'd best to keep a close eye on him," Ignis said, softly putting a blanket over Noctis, tucking him in like a mother hen. Prompto chuckled at this, taking a quick snap for later blackmail, if needed.

Ignis sighed, crossing his arms. "We need to keep an eye on him," he repeated, as Gladio hauled himself to his feet with a grunt, wincing. "Why? Just because he's dreaming of the queen? Why's that an issue?"

"Because Noct does his...you know..." Prompto waved a hand carelessly. "Any time he dreams of her, it happens. So we gotta keep him calm, you know?"

Gladio nodded, eyeing Noctis. "We need to figure this out at some point, ya know... we can't keep suffering his fits."

"Do not call them fits!" Ignis snapped, sternly. "He can't help it, and you know that very well. Do not be ignorant."

Prompto swallowed, and went back to unfolding the tent sections, cheeks red. Gladio nodded, looking annoyed, but saying nothing.

Noctis murmured, shoulders shifting. "...nice day..."  
* * *  
"I guess... it's a nice day," Noctis reluctantly agreed. He took a breath, looking at the distant rolling hills, the horizon seemingly endless. Despite this, the kingdom seemed to be gone, replaced by groups of perfect trees, small lakes, and endless green grass. It was the most lucid dream Noctis had ever experienced.

His mother suddenly had a rose, which she smelled with a sigh, the petals a rich red against her skin. Noctis didn't find this odd, accepting the dream world fairly quickly.

He slumped against the tree trunk with a sigh, closing his eyes briefly. He smelled smoke.  
* * *  
Ignis had finally gotten the camp stove going, a litter of busted matches laying in the dirt around him. Normally, he never messed up lighting the stove, but tonight his hands shook ever so slightly. Everyone was on edge, glancing at Noctis every other moment, as he murmured and shifted in sleep.

After a string of curses, Ignis finally presented dinner: lightly burned fished.

"...no comment on the cuisine, we're all a little on edge, in case you didn't notice," He said irritably. No one said anything, Gladio sniffing the fish he was offered; at least it was bass, burned or not. Bass always tasted good.

Prompto, for once, didn't take a dozen photographs of the dinner for the internet, picking at his burnt food listlessly, with no intention of eating much.

Ignis ignored them both, watching the sun set in the distance with a worried expression furrowing his brows. Noctis had been getting worse and worse nightmares, and the incident with the teenagers at the gas station hadn't left anyone's mind. Noctis would grow worse and worse unless he faced these dreams head on, but no one could help him with it. Only Noctis himself could face down his demons.  
* * *  
"Where do we go after this?" Prompto asked, lazily. He was clicking through his phone lazily, seeing update on various followers. Whenever he took a particularly good photograph out in the field or during a fight, he posted it for everyone to see on the official account for the group, jokingly called The Chobobros. Hundreds of people per hour followed their adventures through the world, along with hash tagged selfies by the dozen, which people liked a little less.

"Up the river...Noct scouted out an imperial base. Might as well destroy it while we got the time," Gladio replied, scraping grit off his fish. "Then we ride for the docks, as planned."

"Sounds good," Prompto said, listlessly. He flicked through new posts with a practiced hand, thumb moving a hundred miles an hour.

Ignis rubbed his temples, his untouched fish going cold on his plate.

"...night..." Noctis murmured, eyes flicking rapidly.  
* * *  
"...night's coming on soon," his mother said ,bored, watching the sun lower over the hills in the distance. As dreams often do, the landscape had changed around them, the tree in a low valley under high hills and green willow trees draping long ferns around them. The sky was dusky purple, like an old bruise healing. The orange ball of the sun lowered behind the top of the hills, the air cooling with a sudden drop of temperature.

"Wait..." Noctis blinked, sitting up suddenly. "Wait... night time... no..." He started to get to his feet, but a look from his mother stopped him; it was the same look she always gave when he'd been bad as a little boy, not exactly disapproving, as his mother didn't take with the concept of making children feel awful for their faults, but a mildly amused, mildly saddened look, one that said "Oh, honestly, my son, you can do so much better".

"There's nothing to be scared of," she said, softly. She held a flower, a red rose, and was gently picking it apart, playing "Loves me, loves me not" with the seemingly millions of petals the rose was composed of.

"But you..." Noct began, cutting himself off. His mother had died on a night ride, killed by a massive creature with several arms. Noctis had been knocked into the dirty grass by the road side, bleeding into the sand as his mother was torn to pieces. By the time his father and their men came, it was too late to save the queen.

Noctis had never really gotten over this, seeing and hearing his mother dying at the hands of a creature he couldn't face down. He'd spent years working his body and fighting skills to their max, biding his time to kill the creature in revenge.

Which he had, beheading the monster with the help of his brothers in arms, tearing its heart out with his bare hands after killing it with his sword, cutting the head free so savagely they were all four coated in blood. To be honest, he'd gone a little crazy with it, keeping the heart secretly as a token. Knowing it was dead, knowing he alone held its heart, so it never reformed...

"A rather ghastly thing to do, Noctis. Where do you keep it, anyway? In your sock?"

He didn't even question how his mother knew this: dream logic was taken over at this point. "I got a case for it in Lestallum..." He confessed. "...I just needed to know it was dead for good. Some of them can reform, you know, unless you utterly destroy the heart, and -"

"Dear, really... I get the idea," his mother said, softly, "you needed to know it was dead for good. That no one else would die at its hands."

The wind was kicking up, and Noctis shuddered, against his will, as leaves went skipping by on their ends, the scent of rain thick in the air. A storm was coming.

"...you need to face it, Noctis. " His mother's tone was more serious than he'd ever heard, not even when she explained his arranged marriage to him when he turned 14, not even the highly awkward "Talk" about what men and women did together on their wedding nights. Never once, even when explaining the finality of death when his too small Chocobo baby died when he was only 5.

Never as serious as in this moment.

"Face what... I...I don't understand, mama," he stammered, getting to his feet shakily. "We should go in, there's a-"

"Don't play dumb, Noctis. You and I both know this isn't real." Her tone was icy, final. She was standing near the cliff edge (was there a cliff before? He didn't know), the wind blowing her hair back wildly, ruffling her dress, white as new fallen snow. Had it been before?

"...Noctis, you can't keep living in the past." His mother's voice was different, softer spoken, accented differently, bookish and younger. "It won't help what you need to do. Your future is coming much sooner than you'd wish, I'm afraid."

His mother turned; but it wasn't his mother anymore, it was Luna, pale, sweet Luna, looking exactly like she did in the famous newspaper portrait, hair tied loosely, a frown marring her face. "You can't change what happened. Forgive yourself for it. Forgiver her for leaving."

"Luna..." He whispered, as a rumbling noise shook the valley, the cliff lit up with jagged lightning. Luna's hair broke free, whipping around her face in wet tangles. The storm broke then, rain making his gasp from the sudden cold, drenching him almost at once, hair clogging his vision.

"I can't," he tried, but he could. Even thought the shriveled heart from it was tucked into the wooden box he'd purchased specially from the curio shop, wrapped in thin paper and a black ribbon, the creature that had killed his mother was lumbering into view.   
* * *  
"I guess we should wrap him up," Prompto said, finally looking up from the glow of his screen. Night had fallen in full, a light chill taking the air. The wind was kicking up over the hills, and a distant animal screeched loudly.

"I've got -" Gladio began, but with a grunt, Noctis was on his feet, sword glittering into being in his grip. He took a stance, Prompto ducking, bracing for a swing.

"Wait, wait, don't jolt him, for gods' sake!" Ignis yelled, trying to keep the other two back, as Noctis began swinging at something only he could see, eyes flickering rapidly beneath their lids.

"...not gonna...Luna...LUNA!"

"Luna?" Ignis spluttered: this was something new to add to the nightmares, it seemed. "Gladio, do not!"

Gladio had been sneaking up behind Noctis, arms out to grab him. Noctis, however, even in sleep, had too sharp of hearing, and whirled, Gladio jumping back to avoid being skewered by the glowing blade.

"...ending this..." He murmured, giving a final step, leaping into the air with his blade aimed to the ground  
* * *  
The monster was in death throes, his blade stuck into its jugular. Blood spurted several feet into the air, Noctis wincing as the warm spatter hit his face, covering him. He left the sword buried in the thing, breathing hard. "...I did it..."

"Yes... for good, I would think," Luna said, behind him. "It shan't trouble you any longer, Noctis."

"Luna..."

He turned to her, but she was fading in the wind, a blue flower growing in her place. As his eyes opened, the nightmare finally leaving him, he realized it was a Sylleblossom.

* * *

They left the blade stuck into the dirt, getting Noctis a cup of coffee. He was visible shaken, but refused to talk about what had happened in his dreams, beyond "It's over now, for good."

The night ended, morning finding them all bleary eyed and dozing. They didn't ask anything else about it, as Noct cleaned off his blade before letting it vanish. The steel had become stained with rusty blue, somehow, the exact same shade as the blood most larger creatures bled when killed.

Noctis didn't say anything about finding a fresh Sylleblossom under the blade, growing along it so closely, a petal had been cleaved by the sharp edge. It made no sense, as they only grew in open fields, with lots of sun. Never on a rock like this. He took it as a sign, pressing it into a travel book left from a gas station trip. Dawn broke, making the flower seem to glow, with an inner light. 

After that, Noctis slept peacefully, and did not dream.

The next travelers to use the camp discovered a small box, carved with a terrible beast. Inside, done in linen and a faded black silk ribbon, was a pile of ash that scattered on the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this IS directly taking the anime into game canon.   
> The monster's demise by the Brotherhood is not described, as that is an episode of the series already.  
> All descriptions of Noct's mother are my creation, and not based on any official descriptions or other fan work.


	10. Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the end of the journey approaches, the Chocobros stop at a lake famous for its reflective qualities, known as Looking Glass

Things had finally settled down somewhat for them, the weather cooling off as they went higher into the hills, the scenery changing from roving cliffs and acres of burning sand to green fields and lakes, the air carrying the tang of salt from the distant shoreline. 

The top was down on the car almost all the time, even at night, the cool breeze sharp after the arid heat of other towns they'd traveled to; the gas stations, however, grew further apart the more distance they covered, and pit stops became a luxury rather than a fact of life on the road. The silences between conversations lengthened, since Prompto spent most of his time sleeping, Ignis had to concentrate on the road, and Gladio poured over several old volumes he'd picked up in Lestallum, learning new fighting techniques to add to his arsenal, so to speak.

For Noctis, sleep came easily for the first time in a very long time, deep , dreamless, comforting. No more nightmares, and no more incidents. No one said anything about it to his face, of course, but they all breathed a sigh of relief to not have to deal with sudden outbursts anymore. They were friends, brothers in arms, but even the closest bonds had a breaking point. 

The rolling fields soon gave way to smaller farms and valleys, lakes dotting the landscape like reflecting mirrors, the stars and moon perfectly framed in the still water when the wind died down. A camping area was ahead, overlooking one of the lakes on the right side. Ignis had seen a travel guide at the last gas station that mentioned the locals referred to it as Looking Glass due to how still it was. Protected on three sides by the hills, the wind barely made so much as a ripple, making it a natural mirror to the sky, or anyone peering into its depths. It was a good place to rest after such a long journey. 

Around sunset, they finally arrived at the site, Noctis yawning widely. Everyone was sore from driving for so long, and the surprise fight in the fields; The scorpions had just come out of nowhere, taking an hour apiece to kill, black blood spurting over everything. They were all tired, and the end of their long journey seemed even closer now than ever before.

Noctis helped as much as he could, but when the tent collapsed for the third time, it was declared to break out the sleeping bags, and give up. The night was nice, the moon was full over head, and that decided it. 

Prompto had never really woken fully anyway, and crashed quickly. He'd been slammed hard during the fight, and even after a couple of potions he was still buzzed, voice thick. They let him be, Gladio gently pulling the blanket over him. It was so motherly, Noctis couldn't hold in a chuckle. 

"Can it, peanut gallery," Gladio grunted, stalking to his chair. He dropped into it heavily, sighing. He closed his eyes, and tipped his head back to the moon. 

"I'm gonna go take a look at the water," Noctis announced, getting to his feet. Ignis shot him a look from the stove top, where he'd been prepping a few quick meals for on the road. "Are you sure that's wise, Noct? We don't know this area."

"I'm not a baby, Ignis. I've got this," Noctis replied, unable to keep a slight edge out of his tone. After everything they'd been through, he knew the others would die for him, but he was sick of being treated like a child, talked down to. He didn't need ever move he made questioned.

He stalked off the camping site, the grass crunching under his boots. The night was as clear as day, the moon bright and huge in the sky. The lake was ahead, glimmering under the light. Noctis didn't know about the local nick name for the place, since Ignis had forgotten to mention it, but he still thought of how closely it resembled a mirror when he saw it. 

There was a log by the bank, high enough to sit down comfortably, the top worn smooth by who knew how many years of posteriors. Obviously this was a popular spot, but no one was there tonight. Just him, and the blue reflection of the moon in the dappled water, a light breeze marring the surface. An owl called, out in the forest, and a twig snapped loudly. 

Noctis jumped to his feet, katana in his hand before he could think, summoned on instinct; he aimed it to the tree line, grunting out a warning. "Show yourself! I'm armed!"

The bushes near him rustled, and a form pushed forward: Ignis, with a torchlight. He squinted at Noctis, jaw set. "Bit jumpy, aren't we?" 

Noctis vanished his katana, sheepish. "I'm sorry... after this afternoon..."

Ignis held up a hand. "I understand Noct. Think nothing else of it."

He walked into the clearing, holding the light up, but here it was barely needed: The moon was bright, the sky cloudless. The lake reflected everything perfectly, and the view was breath taking. Ignis sighed, sitting next to Noctis on the log. 

"...the locals call this place Looking Glass," he said, nodding to the still water. "They say it's magical, but..."

"I'd believe it," Noctis said, softly. "After everything we've seen... I'd believe it."

They were silent for several minutes, watching the water, which rippled gently from the breeze, making the moon dance a quiet jig under the stars. It smelled good out here, pine and sap filling the air. Noctis took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a few moments. 

"...Noctis, we need to talk."

Ignis's quiet voice made him open his eyes, blinking in the sudden darkness: The moon had slid behind a cloud, plunging Looking Glass into inky blackness. Ignis turned on his lantern, a moth buzzing around it. 

"Talk about what?" Noctis crossed his arms. "About the trip?"

"About life," Ignis said, gently. He didn't meet Noctis's eyes as he spoke, hands clenched on his knees, his face bloodless. "There's a few things you need to know before marriage."

Noctis went bright scarlet, swallowing. "Uh..Ignis... no offense... but I'm a little old for The Talk. I... I get the...facts."

Ignis glanced at him, and chuckled, fixing his glasses. "Good lord, Noctis... what do you take me for? You learned about that kind of thing in science, there's no need to repeat it."

Noctis chuckled as well, breathing a sigh of relief. That wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with Ignis, no offense to him. But what else was there?

After a moment, both of them composing themselves, Ignis took a breath. "...I meant what your duties will be to Luna as her husband." Realizing how this sounded, he amended "...in life. Not... not the bedroom."

Noctis nodded, glad for the darkness then, as it hid his reddened cheeks. "Yeah?"

"Lunafreya will depend on you, to an extent. This marriage will last you as long as you both live. She will look to you, and you will look to her for guidance and aid. Do you understand?"

He nodded, not knowing what to say to this: it was obvious marriage meant being able to rely on your mate. It went without saying, didn't it? That was in your vows, after all. 

"... the kingdom will look to you for guidance, and to Lunafreya for her gift. You will hold the kingdom's love in your hands." He paused, swallowing. "...I know all you think of right now is this trip, us on the road... but we will not matter anymore once we reach Altissa."

"Ignis..." Noctis began, but he held up a hand. He looked into Noctis' eyes, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I love you as a brother, Noctis. All four of us do. Don't throw everything away just for us. I don't want that. If it comes to it..."

Ignis paused, thinking over his next words carefully. "...if it comes to it, you leave us. You leave us, and do what needs to be done."

His vision wavered, and he blinked back the tears that threatened: Ignis was deadly serious. For the first time, what lay at the end of the road weighed on him, and Noctis barely kept it together. All this time, he'd only lived in the now, the fights, the roadside stops, the greasy fast food and Prompto's picture spots. The actual end of the road, the wedding, Altissa... Luna. They rarely crossed his mind, as awful as that was. 

"...I just wanted you to know that, Noctis. I didn't want the others to hear it." He looked into Noctis's eyes, his jaw tight. His Adam's apple bobbed in his neck as he swallowed. "...we are dispensable. Do not take risks for our sake."

Noctis didn't want to agree, wanted to yell and scream, deny what Ignis was saying. But he couldn't. He knew it, deep inside. Things were going to be hard, soon, very hard: he didn't know how he knew this, but deep inside, the thought a great and terrible sacrifice was coming resided in his heart. 

Ignis nodded, and got to his feet. As if it had left to avoid ease dropping, the moon slid back into its perch, and lit up Looking Glass again. Noctis watched Ignis's reflection walk away, the water rippling from a passing fish. He lost track of the time he sat there on that smooth log, the future, and everything that lay ahead flooding his mind. 

He didn't want to think about it: What Ignis had said about leaving them, if it came to it, if it meant life or death...

Prompto... he'd know him since high school. Ever since they'd met that afternoon, Prompto had rarely left his side. Leaving him was... 

Gladio, his sword. His loyalty was beyond undying. Watching him sacrifice himself... 

Ignis... steadfast. A teacher and confidant, ever since Noctis was a teenager. 

The idea of leaving them behind...

But it was what a king did. Despite everything, he was still the crowned king. He forgot, sometimes, when they were on the road, eating fries in red plastic booths at gas stations, sipping soda while Kenny Crow leered from posters on the walls, fighting random monsters for some extra gil-

He forgot, sometimes, that he was a king. A kingdom would depend on him for guidance, and for safety. He would never be able to just relax in the backseat again, some terrible indie rock song blaring from Prompto's latest CD, Gladio silent except for the flick of pages, Ignis guiding them to the next mission. 

That would end forever. If he did see the others again, which wasn't set in stone, it would only be as simple greeting in the hall, or a short meeting between his duties. Possibly a fast lunch at the local coffee place once or twice a month. 

The Brotherhood, as it was now, would end. He didn't know what he though of that. He did his best to ignore what made him uncomfortable.   
He gazed into the water, and his reflection looked back, placidly: the moon slid behind a cloud again, but he could still see himself clearly. He gasped, seeing how his reflection changed: he was older, stubble gracing his face, his cheeks thin and lined, eyes hard. He sat on the throne of the kingdom, holding a sword. He looked until the moon came out again, his reflection back to his own now pale face. He let out the breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding, getting to his feet. For several minutes, he paced the lake shore, avoiding looking at the water again. The wind picked up, tossing leaves around his feet. 

He finally headed back to the camp, everyone else asleep already. Among Prompto's soft snoring, and Gladio rustling in his sleeping bag, Noctis slid into the furthest set up, the one nearest the edge of the plateau. From there, he could see Looking Glass in the distance, and the cold reflection of the moon. 

He watched the rippling water until sleep took him into its embrace. Ahead, the moon shone bright and clear.


	11. Brotherhood Prequel - Yule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before they were the Brotherhood, Noctis and the others were high schoolers. Noctis always hates the Yule holidays, and his father does his best to ignore them.

Years ago, Noctis loved the Yule. When he woke the first week of December, when the snow usually began to fall, he'd run downstairs to his mother, and immediately begin planning what decorations were going where, what meal would be made, and what tree to use in the dining room.  
His father had never been as into it as them; he wasn't quite a Scrooge, but he never bothered to join in decorating, or the carols and such they did over the weeks leading up to Yule Night.  
The only time he ever seemed excited about the season was on Yule Morning, when he joined Noctis and his wife on the trip to the orphanage, where they left several warm geese for their dinner, and presents for all the children. Then, he dressed up as a Yule Lad, and put on a bit of a show for the children.  
When the queen died, Yule that year was completely covered with black, as the kingdom mourned. No tree, a simple dinner, and black suits for Noctis and Regis, amid black hangings and a portrait of the queen lined in black silk.  
As Noctis grew older, his father stopped even putting out decorations, and Yule merely became a week of snow and annoyance, as the yearly visit to the orphans only became a short appearance, thrusting the food at the orphanage owner, and leaving. The orphans now weren't there when the queen was alive, so they were used to this, but there were some, now grown, who thought Regis had grown hard hearted.  
What ever the case, Noctis grew, and, by high school, was completely over this Yule thing.  
* * *  
"Noct, Noct, wait up!"  
Prompto's call made several heads turn, as he waded through the after school crowd in the hall. A lot of people knew Noctis, but none knew him as Noct except for Prompto. Even Ignis called him Noctis, on principle.  
Noctis was at his locker, trying to tidy the mess of books and homework papers before the Yule week break, and failing spectacularly. It all piled up so badly, no matter what he did.  
"Noct, buddy, I was calling you for, like, ever." Prompto frowned, showing his call log on his cellphone: nine calls to Noctis, and one text.  
Noctis brushed his bangs back for about the twentieth time, and glanced at the screen. "Yeah, so? I told you, I had class with Ignis today."  
"Bud, you...ugh," Prompto groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I was trying to get a hold of you to let you know Rosella was looking for you."  
Noctis tilted his head, thinking about this for a minute: The name wasn't ringing a bell for him. He brushed his bangs back again, annoyed about it now; he needed a damn haircut.  
"Not....getting a picture there...who's Rosella?" He asked, as Prompto rolled his eyes.  
"Only the hottest girl in school, Noct, seriously... how can you not know?" Prompto's tone was one of utter disbelief, as if this were some common knowledge Noctis should know by heart.  
Noctis slammed his locker, giving up or organizing. He'd just put it off until January, like he did every year, and just enjoy his break for now. He stuffed everything into his bag before answering. "Okay, and? What did she want?"  
Prompto put a hand on Noctis' shoulder, shaking his head like Noctis was a lost cause. "...to ask you out, bro. The Yule Dance? Dude, you could so get - "  
Prompto cut himself off suddenly, eyes shifting to the side: A case of foot in mouth. It was well known Noctis was saved for the Princess, and wasn't allowed to sleep with anyone of either gender. It was tough on a growing teenage boy, but Noctis didn't seem to mind it as much as everyone else did, and students of both genders lusted after him fruitlessly.  
"She...uh...well...you know...she's still a nice girl," Prompto stammered, trying to save face.  
Noctis grinned, hefting his school bag. "Y'know, Prompto... she wouldn't sleep with you, either. She's not as loose as everyone says."  
"I..I sleep with plenty of girls!" Prompto said, a bit too hurriedly. Noctis only shook his head. "Like it matters... it's fluids being shot from body to body."  
"When you put it like that, it makes us sound... positively primeval," A somewhat proper and prim voice said. The hall was emptying, students leaving for various after school activities. Ignis shoved his glasses up his nose again for the fourth time that day, watching them. "You both do know Noctis isn't allowed to have inter-"  
"Ignis, oh my god, enough!" Noctis declared, hands up. "Can we not talk about this ever? Please?"  
"...I sleep with plenty of girls," Prompto muttered under his breath.  
Ignis smirked, and shook his head. "I doubt that, Prompto..."  
Prompto opened his mouth like he was going to argue, cheeks pink, but he closed it again, looking down, defeated.  
"Okay, I'm done with this conversation," Noctis said, throwing his hands up in defeated submission. "Bye."  
As he walked off, Prompto sniffed, looking down. "...I got kissed by a lot of girls...at least....well...one..."  
"Virginity is a virtue," Ignis said, simply, a smirk lifting his lips. "As is knowing when to keep things to one's self."  
* * *  
Noctis didn't go straight home like he was supposed to; he lingered around the campus, walking aimlessly. He ended up at the field, and sat for awhile, watching the runners circle the green. A golden statue rose from a small fountain, a shapeless, shiny orb that supposedly represented harmony among the world's people. It had been intended as a symbol of good will, but people took it as a joke, with the way the times were going.  
A few Yule lights were scattered about the building, but they were a muted selection of red and green, so as not to offend those who didn't celebrate the holidays. A Yule tree, however, dominated the gym windows, coated in tinsel and shiny ornaments, so the effect was more than lost.  
Noctis sighed, leaning forward on the bench, rubbing his temples. A headache hovered on the fringe, making his vision waver.  
"Yo, Noct!" A voice called.  
He looked up, wincing at the loud noise, but couldn't keep a smile off his face when he saw who it was: Gladio was the buffest boy on the track team, and the school rules defying tattoo on his left bicep gleamed in the sunlight. It held some deeper meaning he didn't like to talk about, which Noctis respected. Everyone had secrets.  
Brushing sweaty black hair out of his eyes, Gladio chuckled at him, hands on his hips. Looking at him, Noctis thought, you didn't need to think if he'd kissed any girls....or done other things with them. They pretty much threw themselves at Gladio's feet.  
"What's up, prince? You look like something the cat puked up." Gladio sat down next to him on the bench, emitting the smell of sweat and body powder. He scratched his chest, watching his team mates run along the track. "Somethin' bothering you?"  
"Just..." Noctis started, then paused. Just what? Prompto's teasing? The time of year? His memories? The lack of his mother making things even worse?  
"...just life," he finally finished, a bit lamely. "This time of year always gets me down."  
"Why? Yule is a big deal around here. Girls' by the bunches, class gets out early, people give you stuff for free... what's not to like?"  
Noctis swallowed a bit on the girl part, still a bit embarrassed from earlier. "My...mother used to love this time of year...and it's just...I just..." He trailed off with a shrug. He'd run out of words. "Yeah."  
Gladio nodded slowly, clearly trying not to make Noctis feel more embarrassed. "I...uh..getcha, bro."  
"I just meant... this time of year makes me think of her...and it...gets to me," Noctis confessed, softly. "I can't get all...jolly."  
"Jolly?!" Gladio repeated, chuckling. "Bro, no one's really jolly or holly or whatever. They just want crap for Yule. It's a big ol' play act, y'know?"  
"Yeah..." Noctis agreed, gloomily.  
Distantly, thunder rolled, threatening a late Winter storm.  
* * *  
Finally, the school day ended, and Noctis started the walk home. It had started to rain during his last class (Advanced Japanese Literature), and now it had turned to icy cold drops hitting his umbrella. It was miserable weather, and it matched his mood. His backpack was heavy, nearly outweighing his thoughts, but not quite.  
Trudging home, he noticed more and more signs of the economy going far to the wrong side in town: smaller shops were closed up, windows boarded up. Larger chain stores seemed to be doing alright with the influx of Christmas sales, but the Mom and Pop places were done for, windows boarded up. Money wasn't what it used to be, and it showed.  
He tried not to think about it, but, as future ruler of Eos, he had to.  
Just another thing to add to the load on his shoulders.  
He kept his head down as he walked, doing his best to ignore the bright lights flickering in the windows of the homes and business, trying to block out the jolly carol playing on a passing car radio. Everything about Yule was just...  
"Noct, hey, buddy!"  
He turned at the voice; Prompto again, which wasn't too surprising. That boy stuck to Noctis like glue, and wasn't so good at taking a hint. He was alright enough, maybe a bit naive, but a good guy in the end. His blonde hair was plastered to his forehead, and his clothes were soaked. It was seriously coming down now. Noctis offered his umbrella with a nod, and Prompto squeezed in under it. "Thanks," he grunted, shaking his hair.  
"Hey, what are you, a dog?" Noctis grunted, chuckling a little, hand up to keep his books dry. "What's up? Why'd you chase me down?"  
"I just wanted to apologize, okay? For the thing earlier..." He stammered, cheeks tinted pink. "So...yeah...sorry, Noct."  
That was it? That was all Prompto was worried about? A stupid sex joke? Wow. It was nice to come apologize for it, but it really wasn't a big deal. That was just Prompto's way, Noctis guessed.  
"It's...it's okay, Prompto, really. Nothing to get worked up over."  
"I just...I didn't think..." Prompto stammered, cheeks getting redder.  
Noctis sighed, rolling his eyes. "Okay...then let's start over with this. I can't have sex by royal decree, so what girl is or isn't 'putting out' doesn't matter to me a bit. That settle it?"  
He didn't mean for his tone to have such a sharp edge, but his words bit like a katana. Prompto winced, but nodded. "Yeah...the..uh..Lunafreya thing..."  
He smiled, then, trying to make light of it. "Hey, look on the bright side... it's gonna be great when you two you know..." He waved a hand vaguely.  
"Do it?" Noctis asked, in a monotone.  
"Well..uh...y..yeah," Prompto stammered.  
"Off topic, what about you and all those girls, eh?" Noctis teased, as Prompto went scarlet. He wiped at his lips, and looked down at the sidewalk, suddenly fascinated by the leaves running by in the gutter run off.  
"Yeah..." Noctis said,noncommittally. "So can we...not talk about my future sex life, please? Or yours? It's kinda a private thing..."  
"Yeah, sorry...uh..." Prompto wiped his lips again, making them go pink, clearly embarrassed again. He was a bit jumpy, Noctis thought, but it was kind of endearing. It gave him a fun edge, being constantly jittery and embarrassed, even when he made off colour jokes.  
Noctis rather liked Prompto.  
* * *  
That night, Noctis ate dinner alone in the lesser dining room, his father busy with...something. No one ever told him, so he just assumed it was working on the failing economy. Well...he liked to think it was, but he didn't really know.  
Not knowing what was going on in his own kingdom was pathetic.  
"I'm not very hungry," he told the chef, after picking at the meat for a few minutes, to make it look like he'd actually eaten some of it. His belly was aching, right in the middle, and a sour taste was in his throat.  
He went to his room, dropping on his bed without even undressing, or turning on any lights. The rain pounded the window glass, lulling him in the darkness of the room. His eyes closed, and, soon, he was asleep.  
He dreamed of his mother... and a monster... blood on his hands, her screams in his ears. He woke, hours later on Yule morning, in the middle of the floor, curled up like a baby. He'd torn his shirt, and his knuckles were bruised, as if he'd been hitting something. He went to the window and flung it open, taking a deep breath of fresh air, tinged with the scent of fires, and the chill of a cold day.  
Bells rang outside, as people bustled to gatherings all across the city, some singing carols. School was cancelled, and everyone was joyfully using their day to exchange gifts, and eat way too much meat.  
Inside the royal palace, it was merely business as usual, as Noctis dressed, and went to breakfast. He ate alone, in the chilly dining room.  
That afternoon, he returned to his room, finding the bed made, and a small, simply wrapped box sitting on the pillow. There was no note, but, somehow, he knew who it was from.  
Inside, a simple chain, silver, tinged with blue. A note, scrawled on a scrape of parchment, simply said "This belonged to your mother. She would have wanted you to have it".  
It wasn't much. But it was enough, just then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, three month wait :D  
> Life has been busy. I'm sorry for the huge gap.


	12. Dreamscapes - Side Stories Concluded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter concludes all previous side stories. It's probably best to go and read those before reading this one

When Noctis woke in the morning, he discovered instantly he was late for the morning chapel: chanting and bells echoed through the air, and the heady smell of cherry blossoms filled his nose, a light rain pattering the stonework outside. He didn't really want to get up at first, his limbs still aching from last night's late sword practice, but he knew he had to. His father wouldn't forgive him for missing the weekly services again, sore muscles or no.

Tugging on a clean kimono as quickly as possible, he stumbled through the hall, shoes slapping the tiles loosely. He tried to flatten his hair as much as possible with only saliva and his fingers, but he knew it was sticking up all over the place, like it always did in the mornings. Hardly the look a prince wanted to present himself with at chapel, but he was out of time. Going back to spruce up more wasn't an option, unless he wanted to be later than he already was.

Skidding on the damp tiles, the sliding doors along the hall open to the cool air, he only just made it to the chapel door, easing it open as quietly as he could. The hinges didn't squeak too much, and only a few people in the back turned to glare. He was golden if he could only just make it to the family's traditional seats near the front of the room without too many people noticing...

The bells rang as the monk began a traditional prayer, and he slid onto the cushion just as everyone looked up. Regis turned to glare at his son, hands tightening in his lap. "...you're late," he murmured, head bowed as the monk began anew, chanting the old prayers to the Goddess Shiva, asking for her blessing and light on their world. Regis clenched his teeth, but didn't say anything else. He didn't have to, really; he'd made his point on tardiness many times before.

"I...overslept," Noctis murmured, lamely, which was the truth, but it sounded like a desperate lie to avoid getting into trouble. despite this. "Yesterday really took it out of me..."

"That's not an excuse," Regis hissed, sharply. "A true samurai..." he began.

"...'Is asleep by moon rise, awake by sunrise'," Noctis quoted with a bored air, this back and forth a common one between them whenever Noctis was late to something. Even thought Noctis was a grown man, engaged to a princess, destined to take the throne, Regis often treated him like a child.

"Bow your head, and try not to act like such an infant," Regis whispered, angrily, closing his eyes in prayer, hands clasped to his chest.

Noctis bit back his own harsh words, clasping his hands as he'd been taught long ago by his mother when he was small. He didn't close his eyes like everyone else had, staring up at the plaster statue of the Goddess Shiva that loomed over the ancient wooden pulpit, her eyes closed, arms outstretched in sacrifice, her mouth turned down into a sad grimace. She had died for love, and saved the world from fire, or so it was according to the old texts. Noctis didn't know if he really believed all of this, but his father demanded he attend the services anyway, personal feelings aside. It was traditonal for the royal family to attend every chapel, despite what Noctis wanted. To him, it was simply a weekly chore to suffer through, time after time, week after week.

Finally, it was over, after another hour of preaching and hymns. Noctis had heard it all so much, he could almost quote the scriptures in his sleep, if he so fancied to. It was always the same stories, the same prayers. Repetition ad nauseam, ever since he was a young child.

It was in one ear, out the other, honestly, not that he would dare say as such to his father.

Regis hung back to speak to the monk after the final prayers, as was his custom, allowing Noctis to slip away. Noctis honestly believed his father didn't know he left for the fields after services, and Regis allowed this little bout of rule breaking. Boys would be boys, after all.

Even though Noctis was no longer a child, Regis often thought of him as one. It was hard not to, with his sarcastic attitudes, lack of ability to clean his room, and general lazy demeanor. Noctis still seemed like a twelve year old, in Regis' eyes, adult or not.

He watched him hurry off across the courtyard, umbrella raised to the still drizzling rain, and smiled, thinking back to his own youth. It seemed so long ago, and yet like only yesterday, hazy and golden warm in his memories. He'd defied his father as well, running off with friends to watch the women as they left for their bath, and feeling guilty about it later, fighting with bokken in the fields after dinner, scraping and bruising themselves in the name of furthering their education for samurai training.

Boys would be boys, after all. It was almost expected for royal men to misbehave in their formative years, toeing the line of adulthood that would later so strictly determine their actions. Noctis was a man, but only just so; Regis' own father would've referred to him as a "boy-chick", and old fashioned term for a boy too young to be a man, too old to be considered a child.

Watching his only son lope across the courtyard, hurrying in his pretend escape, thinking he was completely unnoticed by anyone. A chuckle escape him, the monk giving him a strange look.

"Oh, just... something amusing out in the gardens," he explained.

The monk nodded, fixing a crooked candle on the alter to Shiva.

* * *

 

Noctis hurried down the stone steps of the courtyard, the rain pattering against the rice paper of his umbrella, a steady tapping that echoed in his ears with each step he took. The sound kept time with his steps, clacking in sync with him, like a distant heart beat.

Clacking...? What would make a sound like that? Surely not his wooden sandals...? He looked down at them, confused.

Except he wore black button up boots, the toes steel and shiny, flecked with rain drops.

His vision blurred, like tears were filling his eyes, the landscape shifting and turning like a toy he'd had as a child. It was a wheel of coloured glass and beads, with a knob on the handle, a small viewing slot letting you look in at the beads. When you turned the knob, the wheel spun quickly on an axis, the colours making patterns and shapes, hazy and fuzzy. It looked like that now, only in real life, not through the haze of childhood memories.

He blinked, rubbing at his eyes, the rain pattering the leather of his umbrella. He shook his head, then cursed as his hat fell right off, landing in a puddle on the cobblestones. It was a brand new hat, leather with a golden buckle, the current fashion. The water would probably stain it, as he had no luck.

"Tough break there, Noct," a voice chuckled, making him turn. Prompto leaned on his cane, watching Noctis with an amused expression on his lips . He'd though to bring a raincoat, and was hatless that day, his blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, tied with a black ribbon. The cane was the current vogue among men of society, and purely ornamental.

The umbrella made another clack as Noct gripped it, the gear in the handle moving the top a bit to the left, adjusting automatically to the pitch of the rain to keep him as dry as possible. A great little invention, really. Modern science was full of wonders, even if ones as small as this.

"Shut it, Prompto," He snapped, sourly, bending to retrieve his hat from the puddle, the leather stained on the left side already. He wiped it off as best he could on his pants leg.

"Fine, fine," Prompto chuckled, a grin sneaking across his face. "Anyway, you ready, or what? Been waiting for ten minutes now."

"To..." Noctis shook his head, wincing, closing his eyes against the light, which seemed too bright all of a sudden. "To go to the fields?" He finished, rubbing at his eyes with his handkerchief.

"Fields? You feelin' okay, Noct?" A second voice asked. Gladio, suit jacket hung over one broad arm, clutching an simpler umbrella without the tilting mechanism, squinting at them through the drizzle. He hadn't shaved, dark stubble climbing his neck, filling in his tacky muttonchops . "There's no fields around here... we're going to town, remember?"

"Uh, yeah...town...sorry," Noctis said hurriedly, trying to cover his mistake. Why had he been thinking of fields...? Why did his head hurt so badly today?

"Anyway, your dad wanted us to pick up some new gears for the food service," Gladio went on, flicking a piece of lint off his cuff. "Damn thing's on the fritz again, keeps putting wine and egg yolks in everything."

"And these devices are supposed to make life simpler," a new voice chuckled, making Noctis start, turning quickly. His cheeks quickly blazed in embarrassment; God, he was so jumpy today...

"What's gotten into you, Noctis?" The owner of the voice, Ignis, asked, wiping his glasses clean with a cloth, squinting. "Didn't you sleep enough? You're highly jumpy this morning."

"I just... I'm just..." Noctis stammered, swallowing thickly. "...I guess I'm still half asleep. Sorry," he finished, lamely.

The rain let up slightly then, Noctis' umbrella whirring to keep him dry from the last dregs of it.

"...what's the hold up, Noctis? Your dad will get angry if we take too long," Gladio said, tapping a foot on the cobblestones. His arms were crossed across his chest, his kimono patterned in gold and red, the colours of the king's guard.

Kimono...? Why would Gladio be...?

Noctis' head swam again, the world spinning and twisting anew, the colours running and fading. When it cleared, he wore a kimono and sandals again, the light drizzle pattering on the rice paper umbrella in his hand. He shook his head, blinking away the fog. "Uhm...what?"

Ignis scoffed, a hand on his scabbard, as always. He'd always believed fighting skills were to be heavily guarded, and never forgotten for an instant. He was always prepared for battle. The fact his left hand was still hurt from their last fight probably had something to do with it, as well.

"I'm...sorry, sorry... I must have...slept heavily," Noctis stammered, shuffling after the group. Gladio kept watch of the trees around them, as he'd been trained to do, the attack on his mother so many years ago never forgotten. Monsters roamed the hills and fields, mostly unchecked.

"What's with you today, Noct?" Prompto asked, fiddling with the sash on his kimono, which, as usual, was unraveling. Prompto somehow always managed to be unraveled, rumpled, or in some such disarray at any given time. It was like a talent for him. As it was, his scabbard was empty, his katana missing yet again.

"I just slept heavy... making me...fuzzy," Noctis replied, using the same excuse again. The rain let up fully, the sun peering through dusky clouds overhead. He folded up the umbrella, tying it to his side. "I'm okay."

"Better be," Gladio remarked, "wouldn't wanna hurt ya during practice."

Regis had long ago expressly forbidden Noctis from taking on the sword, despite years and years of his pleading to learn it. Secretly, with no permission, Gladio and Ignis had been teaching Noctis the footwork and stances with the bokken, going against all of Regis' wishes in the process.

Boys would be boys, after all. Noctis was determined to learn the proper way to defend himself, just in case...

Refusing him to learn the sword wasn't going to make the past go away, and wouldn't bring his mother back to life. If he could protect himself against a monster, then-

He was thinking this over, trying to remember his steps, the proper hold for the bokken, the correct swing and depth of motion, when his cell phone rang, the annoying jingle that always played when you won a skirmish in game sounding.

He sat up suddenly, blinking away the running colours and noises of the world, the field narrowing to the screen of a tv, a single word flashing on and off, like a neon sign:

**_PAUSE_ **

His cell phone continued to beep, the song repeating several times, until it kicked over to his voice mail. His doctor, reminding him of his appointment. Whatever that meant. What doctor? Appointment for what? He couldn't remember, no matter how hard he tried.

"What is going on?" He murmured, brushing a hand by his side, where the weight of his scabbard had been only moments before. Well, he thought it had been there. Now he wasn't too sure of anything. He recalled a fancy hat dropping into a rain puddle, the weight of the sword in his hand as he swung, the rasp of sandals on cobblestones, the whir of his umbrella adjusting to the rain... what was all of that?

He sniffed loudly, sitting up in the over-stuffed chair, watching the screen flash. A gaming controller lay on the faded carpet, a red light blinking on and off. He picked it up, wonderingly, not recognizing it at all. The buttons were strange, with bright colours and shapes, the weight of it in his hand new to him. Without thinking, he pushed the red button in the middle, making it flash quicker and quicker, his vision filled with that red pulse...

The red blurred, and filtered, like sunlight through water. It was a deep blue, cool and soft against his skin. He felt weightless, and smaller than he should've been, like he was a child again. His pants and jacket had been replaced by shorts and a tee, just like what he'd have worn outside as a child. It made no sense, and yet...somehow did, in a dream-logic way.

He was dreaming, wasn't he? He was convinced of it. That was the only explanation, wasn't it? That, or he was going insane.

Someone was watching him through the gloom; A woman eyes kind and loving, floating just in front of him, her gown drifting like a ghost in the shifting light. She blinked slowly, watching him with that gentle smile never leaving her face. Her hand was held out to him, closed over...something... in her palm.

Wait... was it...? Why would she be...here?

He opened his mouth to say her name, to speak to the woman who never left his thoughts, not once during this long journey, but the light became brighter, her smile vanishing as the glare took over, everything fading away like a dream in the morning.

As he fell into the white, his body falling through the air, he heard her voice, softly saying his name.

* * *

 

_**Noctis... soon, we will meet again...I promise you this...** _

* * *

 

The white light overtook him completely. He knew nothing, felt nothing. It was as if his life had completely, utterly ended.

* * *

 

His vision took its time coming back, fading slowly into focus. The canvas roof of a tent was stretched overhead, the smell of enclosed, stale air thick in his nose. He was loosely wrapped in a blanket, which had twisted around him in sleep. He untangled himself, and sat up, breathing hard. His shirt stuck to his chest with sweat, and the stench of stale body odor faintly tinged the air.

From the light, it seemed to be... noon? One pm? He didn't normally sleep this late. What was going on...?

"Noct?" A voice asked, someone kneeling outside to unzip the tent. Noctis winced at the sudden light, Ignis peering in. "Ah, awake are we? Good, good."

"...time is it?" Noctis managed to ask, his voice a raspy croak. His mouth tasted awful, thick and dry, like he'd been eating sand.

"A little after twelve pm," Ignis said, carefully. "Here...some coffee. Still warm, if a bit bitter. We've run out of sugar." Ignis handed over a camp cup, half full of the luke warm coffee.

Noctis took it gratefully, regardless, sipping greedily to wash out the terrible taste in the back of his throat. "Why'd you let me sleep so long?" He asked, a hint of annoyance slipping into his voice.

Ignis sighed before speaking, rubbing the bridge of his nose, obviously thinking over his words carefully. "...you...haven't slept well in quite awhile, so we took today off. We all just let you sleep in."

"I had..." Noctis began, pausing. What...nightmares? They weren't exactly... except maybe at the end there. What was that? Why was she there, and why was it... underwater?

"..I had...strange dreams. Like...we were...samurai...and in...London?" He said, haltingly. It sounded vague even to his own ears, and the exact details of the dreams were already fading, even as he tried to recall them. Everything was fuzzy, and slipping away quickly in the afternoon light.

Ignis nodded knowingly. "Well, no matter. Drink up, and join us when you're ready. We make for the capital today, if at all possible."

Noctis nodded, still lost in his tangled thoughts. "Alright...yeah."

Ignis nodded, getting to his feet. "Right." He rezipped the tent, leaving him alone. Prompto asked something distantly, but Noctis didn't bother listening.

Noctis took his time, and joined the group almost an hour later, still looking vaguely fuzzy. None of the guys spoke about it, and Noctis felt slightly embarrassed they'd coddled him so much, with everything on the line right now. It was wasted time.

There was so much left in their journey, so many places left to go, things to do, and, yet... it almost felt like everything was coming to an end, all too soon. Their fate hung in the air like a cloud, about to burst at any given moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we get to the near end: Sorry this chapter was a bit trippy. I wanted to rectify the AU's, and make them semi-relevant to everything else.  
> Next chapter is the last, and there will be sadness. We all know how the game ends.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully no one is too OOC here.  
> These stories are mini head canons for smaller moments the game doesn't show. I hope you enjoy them, or are at least amused.  
> Edit added: As his low grade horror tale - blundered along, instead of abrupt ending. Apologies! >.<


End file.
